Beauty and the Berserker
by Shinkshinkshink
Summary: Varric might have exaggerated a bit during his fanciful retelling of Hawke's biography, especially about her love life. Here's the true story: Hawke showed up drunk at Fenris' mansion one night after Act 2. Such a seemingly insignificant thing set into motion a series of events that left no one unscathed. FHawke/Fenris/Anders love triangle.
1. Beautiful Beast

**Fenris**

Fenris lay in bed, staring at the ceiling of his borrowed mansion, hating himself. It was a common past-time of his, now that whatever was going on between he and Hawke was over.

He both berated and affirmed that decision again and again. Both were perfectly valid, if not conflicting responses. His affection could never do anything but cause her trouble, and Hawke had enough of her own to deal with. And yet, she seemed to thrive that way. When things got too complacent in Kirkwall she sought out trouble on her own. It was one of the many things he feared and enjoyed about her.

But that night had taken too much from him. The memories and faces flashing in his mind were only half of it. Being around Hawke was a constant test of his restraint. Every time she touched him he could feel himself losing the control he'd fought too long and hard to gain. It seemed a lifetime since he had been in bondage. That in itself was no small source of pride for him.

But when he was with Hawke he was on a new leash. He was a slave to his own desires, to her touch. Her kisses drove him mad, made him want to bay at the moon like the beast he was, inside. Not now. Not after all he'd done to get here.

He couldn't tell her that. She wouldn't understand.

There was a loud knock at the door. Fenris cursed in Arcanum under his breath, pushing himself out of bed. He grabbed his sword. It was probably just Isabela or Varric, but an escaped slave can never be too safe. He trudged down the stairs. He was almost to the foyer when Hawke came busting through his door.

She howled as she hit her head on the doorjamb. Fenris stared, aghast. She was drunker than he'd ever seen her before. She tripped and he caught her just in time, trying to stifle a laugh at her expense.

"Do you know what time it is, Hawke?" He raised a bemused eyebrow at her.

"Half past ale." She said, reeling. "Don't change the subject."

"Beg your pardon?" Fenris asked.

Hawke tripped again, cursing the floor. This time he almost didn't catch her. He lifted her up and carried her into the bedroom, dropping her onto the mattress with a soft thud.

"Maker, it's like talking to Sandal." She said. "Answer the damn question, elf."

"I-what? You didn't ask one." He said, confused.

"You didn't ask one." She mimicked angrily. "You think you're so much smarter and better than everyone, just because you're pretty. Here I stand to...to accuse you and you won't even respond."

"Hawke..."

"No, listen." She said pointing at him. He crossed his arms and waited for her to continue, but she seemed to forget what she was about to say.

"Goodnight Hawke." He said, realizing the futility of the situation.

"Oh you're running away. That's new. Why even bother answering the door? Why not slip out the window instead, if you're so scared of me."

"I cannot talk to you when you are like this. I will see you in the morning." He said, beginning to feel irritated. He headed toward the door.

She sniffed. He turned to see her eyes glistening with tears.

"What are you doing?" He asked.

She whimpered, blinking away the flood, but new tears formed in their place.

"I don't understand." He said.

She sobbed, her lips trembling.

"Why are you..." He said through his teeth, tearing at his hair.

A long, shuddering wail left her lips. Her shoulders quaked gently.

"Stop!" He shouted, glaring at her. This made no sense. He couldn't reason with her, she was mentally incapable of expressing herself in her intoxication, and now she was caterwauling over Maker knows what. Why had she come to him? He was certain any of her other companions would be better at dealing with _this_, whatever _this_ was.

She turned her face into the pillow and keened at the top of her lungs.

Fenris sighed, suddenly exhausted by the display. He climbed into bed beside her and rubbed her back, not knowing what else to do or say. None of his skills or training had prepared him for the task of comforting a hysterical woman.

This seemed to placate her a little. He raked his hands through her hair. After a while her breathing became slow and even with sleep. Fenris smiled despite himself. He tossed the blanket over them and made himself comfortable on the other side of the bed. Soon he was fast asleep himself.

He awoke late the next morning to the smell of bacon and the sounds of plates clanking together. Hawke was no longer beside him. He sighed as he remembered what happened the night before. He wished he could forget.

He found Hawke in the kitchen slicing a ripe apple the size of his fist. He crept over the table, watching silently so as not to disturb her. It was mesmerizing, the way she glided about the kitchen. His kitchen. He didn't even know that he had silverware, but she seemed right at home in her surroundings whether on the battlefield or in front of the stove. It was a pleasant surprise. He wasn't aware she knew how to cook.

She fanned the apple slices in a circle in the center of a plate, surrounding it with a handful of crisp bacon. She turned to place the plates on the table to find Fenris looking up at her intently. She smiled at him and he felt his heart flutter.

"Morning." She said sweetly, sliding one of the plates in front of him.

"Good morning," he said.

"I made you breakfast. I hope you like it."

"That was most thoughtful of you. You didn't have to."

She smiled, but the sadness in her eyes betrayed her. "It's the least I could do after the way I behaved last night." She looked away. He didn't say anything, just bit into one of the apple slices. Bowing his head in appreciation.

They ate the meal in silence after that. It wasn't until Hawke began clearing the dishes from the table that Fenris spoke.

"What did happen last night?"

"A few too many pints and a lapse in judgment."  
Fenris cocked his head to the side and gave her a look of impatience. "You know what I mean."

"Maker, Fenris, isn't it obvious?"

"No. Should it be?" He wasn't sure he wanted to know anymore.

"Then can we leave it alone? My pride has already suffered enough." Fenris watched intrigued as she stood on her tiptoes, pushing the dishes into the cabinet. A gentleman would have given her a hand with it, but it was more interesting to watch her struggle.

"I suppose. Just don't make a habit of this, Hawke."


	2. A Lapse in Judgement

**Hawke**

What a fool she had been. She could only hope the awkward breakfast could atone for her behavior. Things had been rocky at best lately. She could barely even look him in the eye anymore. Still, that night had been the best and worst night of her life, all because of him. She could think of little else.

She had tried to erase the memory of his touch with alcohol. Isabela's recommendation. She was hoping it would take her mind off the pain, but it didn't help. Somehow she broke free from the Hanged Man and ended up in Fenris' mansion. She'd humiliated herself.

And the worst part?

She had been too drunk to even articulate how she truly felt, brave as she had been. She had intended to tell him how she felt, to demand that he give her another chance. Sober, she was much too guarded to risk the strained friendship they somehow maintained. She couldn't bear the thought of losing that.

She pushed herself onto the counter to reach the topmost cabinet, knocking a dish to the floor. It shattered into a million tiny slivers. She dropped back down and turned to find herself face-to-face with Fenris, so close she could feel his breath hot on her lips.

Those eyes. Those haunting, beautiful eyes.

Fenris could say anything in that moment and she would still be speechless, at the mercy of those eyes.

He raised an eyebrow. She realized she was staring but she couldn't break free from his gaze.

"Hawke..." Fenris said. What was it in his voice she heard? Misery? Sorrow? Longing? She didn't know, but she noticed that he didn't look away.

"Fenris." His name a simple and earnest prayer to the Maker from her lips.

He closed his eyes, seeming to wrestle with his thoughts for a moment, then returned the gaze once again, suddenly filled with desire. His arms encircled her and his mouth fell on hers. His tongue searched her lips, a deep groan of pleasure erupted from him as she massaged it with her own. She gasped and moaned back to him. He hoisted her onto his hips. She could feel his cock pushing against his leggings. She fumbled with his laces as he carried her into the bedroom and tore her clothing off, ripping her smallclothes in the process. He smiled wickedly. Pressing himself against her wetness, still fully clothed.

Her hands grasped at the leggings frantically. He pinned them above her head and unlaced them with his other hand, kissing and biting her ears. He pulled his cock free, kissing her mouth voraciously, grunts and growls escaping from his lips as they came up for air.

"Don't leave again." She pleaded as he thumbed at her clit.

He stopped. Why was he stopping?

"What's wrong?"

He sighed, his hand pushing his hair out of his face as he withdrew and slumped into a chair at the far end of the room.

No. Not again.


	3. Fool Me Twice

**Fenris**

They sat in silence, although he could feel Hawke's eyes on him.

"Did I say something wrong?" She asked.

He didn't answer.

Hawke got up softly and placed a hand on his shoulder, tracing around the lines of lyrium with such gentleness and care not to touch the brands that it hurt. Not physically. Just that she could show such concern and tenderness for him even now. It made him hate himself even more.

"Fenris, talk to me."

He turned away.

"This was a mistake. I am sorry."

"How can you say that?" Her voice wavered, almost imperceptibly.

"Go home." He said, rising from his chair and walking away.

Hawke fell to the floor, defeated. She watched him for a moment.

"Fenris!" She called out to him.

"Go home, Hawke. It can only get worse from here."

He heard the sharp intake of air as she ran out the door, slamming it behind her. He wondered if he would ever be able to face her again. He felt his heart-breaking as he knew it would be better if he didn't.


	4. Doctor McDreamy

**Anders**

Another slow day at the clinic. Anders felt like he'd been crushing this same handful of herbs for hours, maybe he would wear out his mortar and pestle before they were usable. Hawke had brought them to him. It was a sweet gesture, although she harvested them much too early.

Ah well. She was a beautiful woman, a fearsome warrior and a good friend. So what if she was terrible at picking flowers? Besides, they would still serve their purpose, if he could only grind them somehow.

Time to take a break. He laid out on one of the cots for a quick nap, but instead his mind drifted in a rather predictable fashion.

Hawke. There she was again, always in the foreground of his every thought. It was bad enough that her name was on the lips of all his patients, but even his mind wasn't safe from the warrior. He wondered where she was now.

When he'd heard about her and Fenris, he'd almost left Kirkwall altogether, but he found that being around her was enough for him for now. Seeing her smile, the way she walked, the way she swept that one rebellious strand of hair from her face. Justice was not amused.

And that's really what it came down to. The more Justice was around, the more Anders ceased to exist, and the more Anders pushed for autonomy in his own mind, the more Justice threatened his control. He wondered if in another place and another time Hawke would have chosen him. Not the destructive, self-righteous vigilante, but the sensitive, charming Anders he'd been back in Fereldan. He wondered if that man even existed anymore, if he could be revived.

Damn the blight.

He realized that it was a mistake to even think about her like this, but he was smitten by her every word. He loved her, he knew, but he could never tell her so. It would only end in misery for them both because he was an abomination.

_**Don't blame me for this. Blame the elf.**_Justice said.

Anders sighed and went back to his grinding, not noticing the presence behind him until he dropped a flask to the floor with a crash.

He reached down to carefully pick up the sharp pieces. A hand reached for the same piece. He looked up. Hawke. Her bright blue eyes concentrated on the shards of glass around them.

"Good to see you, Hawke." He greeted her pleasantly. She caught her thumb on an edge, cursed and popped the bleeding tip into her mouth. He frowned. "Let me help you."

She hesitated, but gave him her hand. It was so warm and soft. He rubbed it gently with an elfroot solution. The wound fused itself shut and the bleeding stopped. He was almost sad it worked so quickly.

"Is that better?" He asked with concern.

"Yes." She said.

Anders smiled. "What brings you here, my friend?"

Her eyes fluttered and she looked down at her feet. He could see she struggled to find her voice. "Is everything alright?"

"I don't suppose you have something to mend a broken heart." she laughed bitterly.

_**The elf again.**_Justice pointed out the obvious. Anders ignored him.

"Hawke, you can tell me anything." Anders took her by the arm and led her to a cot. She sat with a look of utter despair. Anders felt his own heart breaking at just the sight of her.

"He didn't want me." She sobbed.

Anders sighed and knelt on the ground beside her. He lifted her chin to look him in the eye. A tear slid down her nose. He smiled gently at her. Even with tears and snot, she was the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen. The idea of anyone rejecting her was outlandish. It would have been impossible for him.

"Then he's an even greater fool than I suspected."

He drew her into a hug as she sobbed into his feathered mantle.

He ran his shaking fingers through her short black hair and rested his chin on top of her head. It was almost too much to bear, having her so close to him. "Hawke, you're the most beautiful, kind and dangerous woman in Kirkwall. Any man in Thedas would kill just to kiss you once."

That gave him an idea. Probably a bad one, but he had to try. Anders leaned over ever so slightly and kissed her forehead. His pulse quickened as he realized that she didn't try to pull away. He kissed her eyelid, her wet cheek and the tip of her nose before letting his lips meet hers. Surprisingly, she leaned forward to return the kiss.

He cupped her cheeks in both his hands and used his thumb to wipe away her tears, staring into her deep blue eyes. She leaned forward to kiss him again, taking his breath from him as she did. Her tongue slid into his mouth to meet his. He gulped and stumbled backwards in shock, nearly taking her with him.

"Hawke." He gasped, his brown eyes wide with hunger and amazement. "Please tell me this is real."  
She pulled him down by his collar to kiss her again. Sighs and moans escaped from both their lips as they chased each others' kisses. She pushed him onto the cot and climbed on top of him, sucking his earlobe. She began searching his breeches for their laces. Anders grunted as he realized what she was doing. His eyes shot open and he stood up.

"Hawke, are you sure that this...that _I'm_ what you want right now? Because you know I can't say no to you. Not even if I wanted to. Not when you look at me like that." Hawke ignored him. Still searching his breeches for any kind of entrance. He reached down to hold her hands in his, trying to contain himself. He took a deep breath.

"Do you want _me_? Right here in the clinic? Right now?" He asked, half-begging the Maker for her to say yes. So long he had waited. So many nights he had dreamed of her doing these things, looking at him like that, making him feel this way. He felt like an idiot for even asking, but he cared too much about her to allow her to make a mistake out of him in a moment of pain. It would destroy him.

Her teeth bit at his laces in response. He moaned. He felt himself pressing hard against his breeches. That settled it, then.

"Close the door." She commanded, her eyes lidded. Anders wasted no time, ripping his damnable clothing off on the way. He returned to find her fully nude.

She was even more breath-taking than he imagined. His cock jumped at the sight of her voluptuous breasts. He cupped one in his hand and kissed in the crook of her neck and ears. His hand made it's way down her stomach.

"Maker!" He gasped as he slid a long finger into her cunt, seeing how wet and ready she was. He slipped the finger in his mouth, sucking it clean. Savoring her taste and scent. His eyes rolled back.

He leaned down and kissed her lips, coming up panting for air. He couldn't wait any longer. He grabbed her by the hips, pulling her to the edge of the cot. She laid back, wrapping her legs around his hips. She pulled him against her.

He used his finger to guide himself into her slick wetness. He entered her slowly, inch by inch. He could feel her pulse quicken.

Hawke pulled him ever closer as he thrust into her, harder now. He could feel her tightening around his member with pleasure. His one hand tweaked her nipple. Her hips bucked against his, a feral squeal leaving her lips.

He cried out, crashing into her. The bliss crested over him in waves. He wouldn't last long like this. He had to pace himself. He pulled out ever so slightly and began fingering her clit with him still inside her. This was met with an enthusiastic sigh. Hawke rolled her nipple between her thumb and pointer, and tightened around him again. He bit his bottom lip in approval, sliding back in slowly, all the way down to his hilt, the pleasure toppling him over onto her. He buried his face in her neck, kissing and biting. She dug her nails into his back.

He grunted into her ear. The sound of it sent her right over the edge. Her breath escaped in ragged bursts and the muscles inside her spasmed pleasurably around him, taking him with her. He shouted a little too loudly as they climaxed together.


	5. From Afar

**Fenris**

Pathetic. Beyond pathetic, he was contemptible. It was 3am at least, and he'd been standing in the shadows near her door since midnight. He cursed her in Arcanum, where the hell could she be?

He sat down on a stone bench, his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands. He had no right to be here after what he'd done. He had no right to wonder about her absence. He knew this, and yet he couldn't bring himself to leave. He got up again and began pacing.

He'd gone to the Hanged Man earlier to check up on her, but she never showed. Varric said he hadn't spoken to her since last night, the night she showed up drunk and reeling at his mansion. Isabela and Merrill were no help either. The abomination was not around, but he didn't drink so he had no reason to be at the Hanged Man unless he was invited. Hawke was nowhere to be found.

"Ululatus bestiam. I belong in a cage." He muttered under his breath. A howling dog indeed, and how much of it could truly be blamed on Hawke?

His mind raced to every possible place he could find her. It wasn't completely implausible that she could still be in her home, but there was no light inside and it wasn't like her to stay cooped up.

He crouched down, drawing invisible lines in the stone floor with his fingers. Maybe he should leave. Go back to the Hanged Man and lose himself in a mug of piss-water ale, or go home and do what he always did these days. Think about her and curse himself.

His ears perked at the sound of laughing coming towards him. Her laugh, he knew. Her melodic, sweet laugh. His heart ached. He stepped back into the shadows, concealing his presence.

"...and so he brought the damnable crossbow into my clinic, tears streaming down his face, drunk and begging me to heal it." The abomination! Fenris sneered. He saw Hawke clutch her sides with laughter and grasp his arm to keep from falling over. Anders chuckled.

"What happened?" She asked after a fit of hysterical laughter.

"I put a bandage on Bianca, handed him a poultice and told him she needed bed rest." Hawke fell to the ground, guffawing. The abomination watched her, amused. He crouched down beside her, proffering his hand to help her up.

"That's too much!"

"I'm glad you liked it, Hawke." He said, much too fondly, and he stood much too close.

Fenris tensed as he looked on. He could feel his composure slipping away. He ducked into an alley to avoid being seen. His markings were glowing.

"I...I want to thank you, Anders." He heard her say softly. "I didn't think I'd ever be able to smile again after..." she didn't continue. Fenris felt his heart sink. This is who she went to for comfort? An abomination? An apostate and deserter? He had driven her off to _him._ He spat.

He thought for a moment and begrudgingly began to understand. Anders was free with his words, always saying what he meant. It was something Fenris couldn't do. He'd never learned how. He still wasn't used to the idea of kindness and friendship. For all of Anders' ills, he was a competent healer. He knew how to sooth burns and fractures, why not a broken heart? The thought unsettled him.

"The world would collapse in on itself if you didn't." Fenris gritted his teeth. He peeked around the corner at the two.

Anders rested his forehead on hers, His eyes closed. He had a look of, what? Tenderness? Something more intense, but he couldn't recognize it, whatever it was. He could feel the veneer around his heart crumbling. There was nothing left for him here. He stepped into the clearing. If either of them noticed him leaving, they said nothing.


	6. Whistle in the Dark

**Hawke**

Anders wasn't Fenris, but he was what she needed. At least for right now. She didn't know what force of nature brought her to his clinic that night, for good or ill, but her legs seemed to take over. She didn't know yet if what they had done was a mistake or not. At the moment, she didn't really care if it was.

He held her hand in his and rubbed her knuckles with his thumb, taking a deep breath in. They lingered there like that, his forehead rested on hers, for what seemed like forever. After some time, he reached up, brushed the stray hairs from her face and kissed her gently on the top of her head.

"Let's go inside." She said, pulling him by his hand into the entrance.

"If I come in, I won't be able to leave." He said.

"Please don't go. Not tonight. I need you here." She said, her eyes pleading.

"I could never deny you anything, love." He took her other hand and pressed a kiss in each palm, then turned them over and kissed each knuckle on each hand, slowly and methodically. When he was done he pulled her close, placed a hand on her cheek and kissed her mouth hungrily, his stubble tickling her chin pleasantly.

"Shall we continue inside, then?" She raised an eyebrow.

He pushed her against the door, pressed his body against hers, placing a hand above her for stability. A wicked grin spread across his lips as he looked down at her sideways, his lips just centimeters from hers. Familiar, yet not the same.

"What?" He asked, teasingly.

"Come inside, before Aveline and the rest of the city guard has to pull me off you to take us in for public indecency." She smiled, biting her lip. Anders smirked, allowing her to turn away and unlock the door. He grabbed her by the hips, pressing himself against her backside as she fumbled with the key to her estate. She let out a whimper of frustration when she dropped it on the ground. When the door was finally open he scooped her up in his arms, squealing and giggling and carried her up the stairs, dropping her gently onto the bed.

He began tearing her clothes off. She gestured towards the door. He closed and locked it. The last thing she needed was Bodahn or Sandal walking in right now. Or one of their companions barging in during. She wasn't sure she was ready for them to know, yet. She was definitely sure she didn't want Fenris knowing, although there was very little chance he'd show up here after what happened.

Anders seemed to sense her fears. He turned her on her stomach. His strong hands began rubbing the tension from her neck and shoulders. She could feel her fears subsiding, melting away with the knots and clusters.

He started kissing his way down her neck and back, then turned her over. She trembled as he pushed her knees apart and looked down at her, his eyes drinking in every inch of her. He seemed almost in prayer. She could feel his warm breath on her as he spread her apart with two fingers. She let out a soft moan.

His lips teased her, kissing the insides of her thighs and her lower lips before tasting her sweetness. When he did he let out a rough moan. His lips and tongue searched inside her, causing gasps and moans and curses to cascade from her mouth. She reached down and grabbed at his ponytail. He laughed into her, teasingly. His tongue sliding over her clit again and again causing wave after wave of unadulterated bliss. One of his hands reached up and thumbed lazily at her nipple, he slipped a finger from his other hand inside her. She squirmed.

He added another finger. She gave a soft cry of pleasure. His tongue continued to work as his fingers moved in and out of her. She bucked against his hand. He gave another teasing chuckle at her enthusiasm, his stubble tickling her. Then he increased his force and speed.

She had never known that something could feel so amazing. Did most men know how to do this? She briefly wondered if Fenris would ever even consider such a thing. Fenris. The thought of him made her ache. She could feel herself getting close. She imagined his tattooed chin scented with her juices. His strong fingers pushing something deep inside her. She shouted and her entire body quaked as she soared over the edge. Her body moved of it's own volition. Her muscles tensed and untensed until she was completely relaxed.

"Where in Fereldan did you learn that?" She sighed, utterly satisfied. He snorted, obviously pleased with himself.

She hadn't even noticed that he was out of his breeches until he began kissing his way back up to her mouth. His face smelled like her, like satisfaction. She bit his lips, still warm. He kissed every inch of her neck and shoulders, his hands caressing her breasts and sides, sending shivers up her spine. She reached down and guided him into her wetness. He threw his head back with a groan as he felt how slick she was, his eyes rolling back.


	7. Hearing Voices

**Anders**

He took his time with her, savoring her touch, her sighs, the scent of her. She begged him to go faster and harder, but he took his time. He didn't know why.

_**Because you're only borrowing her. **_Justice stated, bored.

_Not now. Give me this, at least. You've taken everything else._

_**Fine, but don't forget your calling. **_He warned.

"Is everything alright?" Hawke asked. He realized that he had stopped.

"No. I mean, yes! Everything's fine. I'm sorry." He said, smiling and going back to fondling her.

"It's Justice. He's here with us now, isn't he?" She looked pained.

Anders frowned, sitting upright, burying his face in his hands. "He's always here."

Hawke rose to look him in the eye an eyebrow raised seductively. "Did he teach you that trick?"  
"NO!" Anders shouted unintentionally, then sighed and said quieter. "No. He doesn't approve of this at all. He doesn't understand these kind of things. Anything that distracts from his philosophy is deemed unimportant to him." He cupped her cheek in his hand, still scented from her juices. "And I don't care." He kissed her, pulling her back into his arms.

_**That was a lie. **_

_Maker shut up!_

"It won't happen again." He promised. "Now, where were we?" He smiled, pushing her back down, kissing her deeply and commencing their slow love-making without any protests from Hawke.

There were no more interruptions, and after they were through, she fell asleep on his chest. He stroked her hair, and kissed her forehead, gently. He realized that for the first time in years he was happy. Truly happy despite his cause and his history.

_Only borrowing her. _The thought reverberated in his mind. There was some truth to it. Even Fenris wasn't stupid enough to just send her away without regretting it eventually. One day he would learn his mistake and would try to win her back.

Ah, but that's the problem with Fenris. Hawke wasn't a prize to be won, she wasn't a thing...a possession to be taken. She didn't belong to the elf no more than she belonged to him. When the time came, he could only hope that he'd made her as happy as she made him. And maybe, just maybe she would choose to stay, but if not, he would respect her decision and hope Fenris would learn from his past mistakes.

But for right now, she was here with him. What a glorious feeling that was.


	8. Mister Sandman

**Fenris**

There was no longer any doubt in his mind that there was something going on between Anders and Hawke. The abomination followed her in lock-step in the recent weeks since that fateful morning. Like a shadow. _Or like a parasite, _Fenris thought.

It didn't matter. He had sent her away. Again. He would never let himself forget that mistake. But was it a mistake? Certainly it was better for Hawke's well-being if she wasn't involved with an escaped Tevinter slave, especially one as conspicuous as he, and with such a valuable hide.

But was Anders any better? An abomination as well as an apostate and a Grey Warden deserter. Was there anyone more dangerous to Hawke than that?

Yet he couldn't help but notice that she was doing just fine. Fine without him. Fine with the abomination. Fine on her own.

Not that he'd spent much time with Hawke lately. The warrior didn't seem any less busy than usual. The title of Champion of Kirkwall did not come without it's price. She was constantly being paraded around Hightown. Suddenly everyone wanted to meet the woman who faced the Arishok in single combat. She was busy, but she didn't show up at his mansion very often looking for help anymore. He couldn't blame her. Often as not when she did he was drunk and angry. _And useless,_ he reminded himself. _And worthless._

She would just look at him with her sad blue eyes and apologize for disturbing him, which would make him angrier at himself. He would curse after her shadow in every language he knew as she retreated out his door, and she was gentle and kind enough to ignore it and keep coming back. Although visits became less and less frequent.

She did continue their reading lessons and thankfully, the abomination didn't accompany her then. He was careful to remain sober during those nights, at least until she left. They were no longer punctuated with laughter and wine anymore. She was strictly business. However, whenever she corrected him on his pronunciation, she would apologize softly and look away. He realized that she was trying to spare his feelings in her own gentle way. That hurt more than anything, but he would just give a small nod and continue, losing himself in the pages. It happened less and less, as he became more confident in his ability to read. Soon he wouldn't need her lessons. What would he do then? Would she disappear from his life for good? His heart couldn't take that. Sometimes he made a mistake on purpose, just so she wouldn't stop coming. It was all he had left.

Sometimes in his dreams she would follow him down a long winding road. He knew what was at the end of that road. The edge of a cliff. He would look down at the jagged rocks below, take her in his arms and heave her off the edge with a burning kiss. She would watch him as she fell, a tear in her eye, apologizing all the way down.

He woke from that dream for the fifth night in a row before he decided that it was too much for him to bear. As much as it pained him, he needed to see the abomination. He needed dreamless sleep.


	9. A Deal with the Devil

**Anders**

He watched Hawke fiddle with his tools in the corner of the clinic. He couldn't help but smile. She didn't need to keep him company here, he knew how boring it must be for her, but she came nonetheless. Sometimes on a slow night she would sleep on one of the cots, and he would just watch her, although he had so many other chores that needed to be done. The maintenance of the clinic fell by the wayside at the sight of his sleeping Hawke.

**_You've forgotten your purpose here. _**Justice pestered.

_I have not. I've chosen a new one. _

**_So you've given up on healing? Given up on mages?_**

Anders felt no need to argue. He'd spent his entire life fighting for survival, for freedom, for a place in this world. He still worked at the clinic. He would always fight for the rights of mages, and there would be plenty of time for that. Right now he just wanted Hawke. All of Hawke for as long as she would let him.

She looked up at him, her sapphire eyes twinkling and her face illuminated by candlelight. The light danced across her features. Her beauty in this darkness was ethereal.

"Fenris." She said.

Anders furrowed his brow and cocked his head to the side. Then saw that she wasn't actually looking at him, but past him at the door.

"I hope I'm not interrupting anything." the elf said, coolly.

"You..." Anders jeered. "What in the void are you doing here?"

Fenris frowned, measuring his words. "I had heard there was a healer here. One who would turn no one in the city away, even if they have no coin to spare. Maybe I was mistaken."

Anders sighed. "You heard right. But you don't look ill."

Fenris hesitated, glancing at Hawke. She seemed to sense this was a private issue and got up to leave.

And then they were alone. The two of them. The discomfort was palpable.

"Speak elf." Anders said.

"I...I can't sleep at night." Fenris said, looking miserable. He turned away, his arms crossed. "And when I do, I am plagued with horrific nightmares. I need dreamless sleep. I have no money, but I will find a way to repay you."

Anders stood silent for a moment. Perhaps the blighted fool did have an ounce of decency. Clearly he was losing sleep over his own remorse. "Does this have to do with..."

"That is none of your concern." Fenris snapped. "I should have known better than to come to you." Fenris began stomping away.

"Wait." Anders sighed again. "I can help you. I can make you a potion that will allow you to sleep soundly, without nightmares..."

"Then do so."

"But the potion requires an ingredient I don't have." Anders shrugged. "It grows in clusters on rocks by the sea. We would have to venture to the Wounded Coast."

"No." Fenris answered.

"Why? We've been to the coast half a million times. It will solve your problem and it won't even take a full day's work."

"Because the Wounded Coast is dangerous. No doubt it will take a team to gather it." Anders understood. Fenris was prideful if nothing else. He didn't want Hawke and the others to find out and interfere. He realized that it was no easy task for him to even come here tonight, seeking his aid.

"Maker knows why I'm offering this, but what if I told Hawke that I needed it for the clinic? Technically it's not even a lie. I can always use sleeping agents."

Fenris stared at him incredulously for a long time, then softened his brow. "And you would do this for me?"

"Why not?"

Fenris snorted. "That is uncharacteristically helpful of you. What is it you'd ask of me in return?"

"Nothing. Hawke cares for you a great deal. It will please her to know that you're alright." Anders said.

"No." Fenris said.

"Then I will do it out of the kindness of my heart, like all of my work."

"Unacceptable. I will not have you holding this...this favor over me. I refuse to be in your debt."

Anders sat down on the edge of a cot, scratching his chin for a moment. The word of a snarling dog was worthless to him, but forging even a tenuous truce between them could make Hawke's life easier.

He took a deep breath and started. "Alright then. There is something I would ask of you. A day will come when you wish to reclaim that which you have discarded so unceremoniously. I'm no fool, Fenris. I see how you look at her even now. I only ask that when that day comes you are certain this time, and you respect her decision, whatever that may be. And in the event that she does choose you, you aren't foolish enough to hurt her again or - Maker help me - I will kill you myself."

Fenris glared at him for a moment, his skin glowing from the lyrium brands. He sauntered across the room and stuck his hand out. For a moment Anders thought that he meant to reach through his chest and crush his heart in his hand, but he simply held it there in front of them, waiting for Anders to take it. Anders did, cautiously. The elf pulled him in to whisper threateningly into his ear.

"Consider it done." Fenris growled. "And if you ever cause her harm, I will pull your still-beating heart from your chest without a second thought."

"Deal." Anders said and they shook.


	10. Bloodsport

**Hawke**

The Wounded Coast was even more dreary than usual, dark clouds loomed over them and threatened to open at any moment. She fell back to walk beside Fenris. He didn't look at her.

"Is everything alright?" She asked.

"Why do you ask?" Fenris shot her a quizzical glance.

"Your health. It must have been serious for you to seek out Anders' assistance."

Fenris frowned. "No need to trouble yourself, Hawke. I am fine."

"If you need anything..." She said, taking his hand.  
"I am fine, Hawke." Fenris said with finality, pulling away.

Anders looked back at them for just a second. She sped up to walk beside him again.

"Is he ill?" Hawke asked, concerned.

"In a manner of speaking, love, but even I can't fix that." Anders laughed. "Sorry. No, he's fine. Just minor injuries. Nothing I couldn't handle." He placed a hand on the small of her back, reassuringly.

"Promise?"

Anders stopped in his tracks, letting the others pass them. He took her hands in his and drew her close. "Do you doubt that I would tell you if there was something seriously wrong with him?"

She looked down at her feet, ashamed. He placed a hand under her chin and pulled her face up to look him in the eye.

"I know you care for him. I may not understand why, but I promise that I won't allow him to come to harm in my care if only to spare you the stress. Do you trust me?" He smiled.

She stood on her toes and kissed him in response.

"Get a room, you two." Varric chuckled.

"Shall we be off then?" Anders asked her.

"Please." Fenris muttered.

Soon they came across an abandoned campsite. The fire was still lit and there were several wineskins still full, propped against rocks.

"I don't like this one bit." Fenris said.

"If it looks like an ambush and feels like an ambush..." Varric said. An arrow flew past his head before he could finish. Twenty or so highwaymen stepped out from behind the bushes and landed from the trees.

"Oi! They don't look like they got gold, Rufus." One bandit yelled to their leader.

"You idiot, that's the bloody Champion of Kirkwall." Rufus said.

"Ah, so you've heard of me. Then perhaps you have also heard of how I deal with blighters who prey off the weak. Blighters like you, as it were."

"We outnumber you five to one."

"But we're stronger, smarter and so much prettier than you. It seems the Maker favors us."

"You bleed like everyone else."  
"Don't say I didn't warn you." She said, cracking her knuckles. She pulled out her axe and got into position.

"Kill them all!" Rufus yelled.

"All of you, into the fray!" shouted Hawke, cleaving through the closest bandit to her. She swung at another, her axe buried itself through his chest with a sickening crunch. He was lifted off the ground as she tried to pull it out of him.

"Hawke! Behind you!" Varric yelled.

Fenris let out a fearsome shout and felled the attacker with a sword through his belly. Hawke nodded in approval, clearly impressed. He bowed with a smile and a flourish before turning and plunging his blade into another man's gut.

"Now you're just showing off." She yelled.

"I'm not even trying, Hawke." Fenris smirked, setting her heart aflutter. She blushed and stood back-to-back with him, cutting down enemies all around them. Anyone watching would think their moves were choreographed, but they had fallen into an ancient rhythm, much older than they. The chemical thrill of battle, Hawke realized. It was intoxicating.

Rufus managed to land a swipe of his sword across Hawke's cheek. She paused to wipe it and looked down at her bloody finger, then motioned to Fenris. He nodded, falling into position behind the bandit, kneeling with his blade pointing backwards. Hawke chopped at Rufus' kneecaps, and he fell onto Fenris' waiting sword. Fenris pushed him off with his bare foot, then let out a feral battlecry before thrusting it into another bandit's throat.

Just like old times.

"Magnificent!" Hawke said.

"Yes, Hawke?" Fenris smirked.

A dwarf charged Hawke then, knocking the wind from her and toppling her to the ground. He raised his dagger to her throat.

"Tsk tsk tsk. You shouldn't have done that." Hawke said, shaking her head.

"I'm already a dead man, but at least I can take one of you bastards with me."

Suddenly the dwarf's face flushed and he was surrounded by a faint blue halo.

"You are right about one thing." Fenris said, ripping the dwarf's heart out from behind. "You are a dead man." He pushed the dead dwarf off of Hawke and extended his hand. She took it and he pulled her up with ease, then dropped the dripping heart at her feet in offering.

They stood there for a couple seconds, just staring at each other in mutual admiration. There was a feral longing deep inside them. It wasn't the first time they'd felt this way.

"Oh, I'm sorry. Are we intruding on an intimate moment between you two? A warrior thing, no doubt. Perhaps Varric and I should leave you to...whatever this sordid affair is." Anders yelled across the clearing, annoyed and frantically casting fireballs.

Right. There were still more bad guys.

"It would be over just as quickly." Fenris jeered, slicing the hamstring of another bandit, then stood back so Hawke could decapitate him. "If you fought half as well as you whined, we'd already be on our way by now."

"He's got you there, Blondie." Varric chuckled, letting loose an arrow into a robber's skull and notching another.

"Shut up, Varric." Anders snapped.

"Shut up, all of you." Hawke said, exasperated.

When it was over, they looked out at the carnage all around them, surveying their victory. There was nothing but the sound of waves crashing on the beach and a faint, faraway gull's cry.


	11. Open Mouth, Insert Foot

**Anders**

"That was amazing! I feel so alive!" Hawke said, grinning wildly. She clapped Fenris hard on the shoulder in congratulation.

Anders came up panting behind her, and bent over to catch his breath. "Yes, well...enjoy the afterglow while it lasts. We have to move on."

Did she really think he hadn't seen the look on their faces? Could they make it any more painfully obvious? Varric would undoubtedly be telling this story at the Hanged Man this very night, effectively castrating him. He could hear them shaking their heads in pity now.

"The after...what is that supposed to mean?" She glared.

"You know exactly what it means." Anders snapped.

"No, I'm sure I don't. We rid the world of some worthless scum and you accuse me of...what? What is it you're accusing me of again?"

"Just remember who's going home with you tonight, sweetheart."

"Andraste's dripping nethers! You're acting like a bloody child, Anders." She said, throwing her hands in the air.

"And you're acting like a bitch in heat." He said, immediately regretting it.

She slapped him. Hard.

"I...I deserved that." Anders said, recoiling.

"Understatement of the year." Hawke said, storming off.

"Hawke, wait." Anders called. Fenris glowered at him.

"Give her some space, Blondie." Varric said softly. Anders knew he was right. He could only make her angrier at this point.

* * *

They made their way along the coast without further interruption, giving Anders plenty of time to think about what he'd done.

The more he thought about it, the more he realized how pathetic he was acting. She was right, just like always. And he had acted like such a blighter. A bitch in heat, he had said. Oh Maker, why? Why had he said _that_? He grimaced at his own stupidity.

He glanced at Fenris, who looked even more smug than usual. He wanted to blame that idiotic dog for the whole ordeal, but it wasn't him who had treated her like a child, like his belonging.

Somehow he'd have to find a way to make it up to her, but right now they needed to find a plant. A plant for Fenris. He bit the side of his mouth. He must honor this thinly veiled attempt at a truce, at least until Fenris made his move.

"What's this flower called again?" Varric asked, as if reading his mind.

"It's not a flower. It's more like a vine. It's called Faderoot. It grows over rocks. Look for stones with stark white veins." He said.

"And this root serves some medicinal purpose?"

"Yes."

"And that would be?" Varric prodded.

"You've never shown a curiosity towards my work before, Varric."

"I've never been ambushed while trying to help you with your work before either, Blondie. Anyway, it was just a passing curiosity. Let's just find it and go home."

"I agree." Anders said.

_**You continue to assist the elf. **_

_I continue to keep my word. _

_**I do not understand. He is your nemesis and the enemy of mages. **_

_Right now I'm my only enemy. _


	12. Chemistry 101

**Fenris**

The abomination was right. There was something there between them in that moment. He had felt it, he knew Hawke had felt it too, although she denied it. He had seen the look in her eyes. She'd only ever looked at him like that once before, and he wasn't about to forget either case anytime soon.

That feeling lingered, even now. It was something ancient and untamed. Something brutal and undeniably seductive. New and yet remembered. He longed to feel it again. To kiss her under a shower of blood. It was a dark, primal urge that he just couldn't shake.

"There." Anders pointed. "Faderoot, and plenty of it." He crouched over it with a small knife, carefully scraping the rocks into a small green pouch.

Hawke seemed very distracted by a few rocks on the ground. Still angry with the mage, no doubt. He couldn't blame her. He had almost broken Anders' teeth himself when he made that little comment. He would have, if the abomination wasn't helping him with his little problem. Besides, it would only confuse Hawke more and if she felt anything like he did right now, she was already confused enough. What was it Anders had called it? The afterglow? Tasteless, crude, but rather appropriate.

"You're staring, Broody." Varric whispered. He blinked and looked away. The dwarf could be helpful sometimes.

"That should be enough. Let's head back to the city. Those bandits attacked us in broad daylight. I wouldn't like to be here when the sun goes down." Anders said.

Good. Maybe he could actually get a full night's sleep for once.


	13. Sudden but Inevitable Betrayal

**Anders**

She stood guarded, her arms crossed over her chest defensively. This wasn't going to be easy. He was surprised that he could even talk her into coming down to the clinic with him.

"Hawke, I'm so sorry. I don't know what came over me."

"You humiliated me, Anders. And I still don't even know what you were talking about."  
"I just saw the way you looked at him. I couldn't stand the thought of losing you, of him hurting you again."

"Fenris and I...we're through. He made that perfectly clear. Twice. But you know that. I have nothing to hide. I've been nothing if not faithful to you."

"I know! I know. Hawke, you've been wonderful. I feel like such an idiot."

"If the shoe fits..."

"I wasn't angry with you. I shouldn't have taken it out on you. All I can do is beg for your forgiveness. Please Hawke. I'm nothing without you."

"What do you want from me?" She asked, sighing.

He thought for a moment before speaking. "Just one thing. That day you came to me...you were hurt and alone. When I took you back to your mansion that night you asked me not to go. You said you needed me to stay. That's what I need right now, Hawke. I beg you, no, I pray. Don't go. Not tonight. Stay here with me." He knew he must look pathetic, but every word was true.

She rolled her eyes and smiled, putting her arms around him. "Stay here in the clinic, Anders?"

"No. Here in my arms." He said, kissing her deeply.

"Mmmm. And what do I get out of it?" She teased.

"An enthusiastic lover? Kisses on every inch of your body? Or I suppose I could just give you anything and everything you desire."

"My, but that is a compelling argument, serrah."

"You think so? If you like, I shall say it again. Soundlessly. With my lips and tongue between your legs." He smiled, sweeping her off her feet and whispered in her ear "In Orlesian."

"Maker!" She gasped.

"Oh, you like that idea, do you?" He laughed and nibbled at her ear. "I'm rather partial to it myself. I'm throbbing for you already."

"That mouth is just full of pleasant surprises." She giggled.

"Perhaps. When it's not too busy insulting you to your face." A familiar voice growled. Fenris.

Anders turned slowly towards him, annoyed. "You're early, dog."

"What's going on? I thought you said Fenris was well."

"I am. Or I was, until I was privy to that disgusting display."

"Are you jealous?" Anders asked, making a show of putting his arm around Hawke.

"Of you? Bah!" Fenris spat.

"You just seem rather bitter for someone who wants nothing to do with Hawke."

"And you seem rather neurotic, calling her names one minute and whispering in her ear the next. She can do better."

"Like you? Now that's a laugh."

"Will someone please tell me what's going on?" Hawke whined, frustrated.  
"This is none of your concern, Hawke."

"Isn't it?" Anders accused.

"We had a deal, mage." Fenris clenched his fists.

"Was that before or after you came and threw down the gauntlet in my clinic?"

Fenris grabbed Anders' shirt and pushed him against a wall. "You gave me your word. Is that worth nothing to you? I will not allow you to make her a part of this."

"She's already a part of this. Ever since you tossed her aside like a tawdry whore."

"I would never." The room lit up with the glow of his markings.

"Oh, but you did, and I was there to pick up the pieces while you sat brooding in your mansion."

"Don't speak of things you know nothing about."

"Tell me something, elf. From what I understand of beasts, all they do is fight and fuck. That is their nature, of course. But you are no ordinary beast, are you Fenris? So indulge me, just this once: do you love her?" He asked, pointedly.

Fenris' face softened for only an instant, but Anders caught it.

"Answer the blighted question! Do you love her?"

"I should have known this was your plan all along. Pretend to help me and then force me to open my veins in front of her. You are a mage through and through. Rotten to your stinking core. And now you've come full circle, haven't you?"

"And you are a snarling dog playing at human emotion. I will never know what Hawke saw in you."

"That's enough!" Hawke yelled throwing a tray of flasks across the room. "I'm making myself a part of this, and you will tell me what _this_ is or so help me, I will kill you both."

Fenris bared his teeth, releasing Anders.

"I am leaving." He said, heading for the door.

"Like hell you are." Hawke said, blocking his path. "Tell me."

He muttered something in Arcanum under his breath. "Move, Hawke."

"No." Hawke raised an eyebrow. "Anders?"

"Ask him."

"Fenris?"

He seemed to struggle with the words for a several seconds. "I can't sleep."

Hawke furrowed her brow in confusion. "And you kept this from me...why?"

Fenris turned away. "And I have nightmares."

"Oh, that explains everything." She said, sarcastically.

Fenris turned back to her speaking through gritted teeth. "I can't sleep because you are all I think about. When I do fall asleep I have nightmares about you. I awake drenched in sweat, believing I have your blood on my hands. Ever since that morning. My guilt is a blight on my very soul. I came here hoping that this abomination could help me sleep through the night. It was too much to ask that he keep his promise, but I will keep mine. Now is not the time."

"You left me, Fenris. Or did you forget? I wanted you. You left me."

He grabbed her by the shoulders and began shaking her violently. "Were you not listening to a word I said, woman? Letting you go was the hardest thing I have ever had to do."

"Fenris, you're hurting me."

He loosened his grip and let his head fall. "Yes. It seems I am good at that." He said miserably, letting go.

"Fenris..." Hawke said softly.

Anders couldn't bear to look at Hawke, right then. Whatever emotion she felt, he was sure he didn't want to know, didn't want to see it in her eyes.

"Keep your sympathy, Hawke. It is I who should be sorry." Fenris sighed, leaving.

"Wait, Fenris." Anders called before he realized what he was doing. "Here." He handed him the vial with the milky liquid in it. He didn't know why.

"Small consolation now, mage." Fenris barked.

"Take it and go."

"With pleasure." Fenris scoffed.


	14. Voulez-vous coucher avec moi?

**Hawke**

She ran through Darktown, searching for that familiar white hair and peculiar markings. No one had seen him at the Hanged Man and his mansion was empty. She even checked her own estate, but Bodahn said no one had come. She had so many things she needed to say. So many questions for him.

Defeated, she dragged her feet back to the clinic, feeling guilty for leaving Anders in that awful state, still hurting from earlier. She found him slumped in a corner with his head in his hands.

"Take a seat on the cot. I'll be with you in a minute." He said, not looking up. He had been crying from the looks of it.

"You look so sad. Like a little lost kitten." She said softly.

"Hawke!" He exclaimed, wiping the tears from his eyes. "You came back."

She laughed. "Of course. Do you really think I'm so fickle?"

"I wouldn't have blamed you. This has been a difficult day for us both. I haven't been the kind and gentle lover you deserve."

"There's still a few hours left in the night. You might be able to make it up to me if you still feel up to it." He ran to her across the clinic, his boots crunching on the broken flasks on the way. He tangled her up in his embrace, kissing her hard.

"Let's go home." She said when they came up for air. "I still want to learn what the Orlesian language feels like." He grinned.


	15. Down in the Dumps

**Fenris**

He stared at the bottle, turning it over in his hands again and again. The opaque liquid washed over the surface of the flask in a mesmerizing way.

_Do you love her?_

That was the question, wasn't it? It felt like love, or whatever Fenris imagined love would feel like. Whatever it was, it was powerful and exhausting.

If it was love, then it would be almost logical to try and make it work, to go to her this very night and beg her to forgive him. Instead he had run and hid from her, just like he always did. Hawke was right, even in her drunken stupor. He was a coward.

The mage had been right too, though. One day he would be back for her, he admitted. One day when he wasn't so consumed by his anger. Maybe he could even deserve her, though he doubted it.

He looked around him. A sewer. _How appropriate._ He thought. He now smelled exactly how he felt. He wanted to cry, but he didn't know how.

_A snarling dog playing at human emotion. _

He drank a small amount of the white liquid and waited.

Maybe he should leave the city. Go to Fereldan for a while and lay low. Danarius would never think to look for him there.

He finally drifted off to sleep and he didn't dream, or if he did, he couldn't remember.


	16. Orlesian Job

**Anders**

Anders breathed in deeply, taking in the scent of her; an earthy, animal musk. Sweat and sex and satisfaction from last night. He wished he could bathe in that scent, put it in a bottle and wash his clothes in it.

She stayed. Perhaps he wasn't just borrowing her after all. Perhaps she would always choose him, just as he would always choose her.

_**And what will you choose if she stands between us and our mission?**_

_She wouldn't. _

_**But what if she does?**_

_I love her. I would never hurt her. _

_**This "love" has made you weak and unfocused.**_

_I'm only a man. _

"Good morning." Hawke stretched and yawned.

"Good morning, dear." He said, still lost in thought.

"Is something wrong?" Hawke asked, her bright blue eyes full of concern.

"Huh? Oh definitely not. In fact, everything is right with the world right now. If I died this very instant, I would die happy." She hugged him tightly, curling into his chest.

"Well don't do that. I might miss you."

"I wouldn't dream of it, love." He smiled, raking his hands through her short black hair and tucking it behind her ear.

"You just seem rather far away right now. Is it the little voice in your head again?" She asked, kissing his chin.

"If I seem distracted it's only because I am in awe of you."

She laughed. "It is I who should be awestruck. I could get quite used to having you and that delicious tongue of yours around. I am a lucky woman."

Anders smirked. Just the thought of kissing her there made him grow. She had that power over him, to make him ache with desire with just a word or a look.

"Oh my, what have we here?" She asked, fondling him. "What did you intend to do with this?"

He let out a grunt. "I had hoped you might be able to find some work suitable for it, serrah."

"Perhaps." She purred.

She kissed him deeply, then began kissing her way down his neck, taking her time on his chest and stomach. Then, slowly nibbled and kissed all along the little trail of hairs from his navel down to...

"...oh Maker!" Anders moaned, his pulse quickening. She let out a deep, throaty chuckle.

She licked him base to tip before taking him full in her mouth. Her lips slid up and down the length of him, her tongue brushing over the sensitive tip, her hands caressing the inside of his thighs. He trembled and clutched at the sheets, then propped a pillow behind his back so he could watch her work.

She looked up at him, her sensual mouth full. He ran a finger along her jawline, then combed the hair from her eyes with his fingers gently. She was impossibly beautiful in that moment. He exhaled, his eyes rolling back. He took her hand in his.

She mewled.

_She wants this as much as I do. She wants me just as much as I want her. _The thought astonished and confused him.

She accelerated stroking and pumping him into her mouth. He let out a cry of pleasure. She moaned back at him.

She seemed very good at this. Now he understood why she wanted to know where he learned to kiss her down there. He felt a twinge of jealousy. Had she done this before? Or perhaps she just instinctively knew what to do to turn him to putty in her hands. And mouth as it were. It certainly seemed like it at times. Times like now. He sighed.

He thought maybe he should say something. Encourage her, or maybe tell her how he felt. Tell her that he loved her. That he wanted to spend his whole life with her. No, now wasn't the time for that. Maybe soon. "Like that." He whispered, closing his eyes.

He was so very close now. She didn't even need to try anymore. His body shook, begging for any feather-light touch that could send him into euphoria. Every sensation was magnified by his ecstasy.

Her tongue rolled over his tip. He roared and quaked and shuddered, squeezing her hand hard in his, releasing himself to her. She accepted with no complaint, swallowing hard. And then he relaxed with a shiver, his head lolling to the side with a smile.

She crawled up next to him, propped on one elbow to look into his eyes. She wiped the corner of her mouth with the back of her hand, and smiled. He drew her close and kissed her with purpose.

"My turn." he said, laying her on her back.

"Wasn't that your turn?" She laughed.

"Perhaps you still don't realize how much pleasure I get from hearing my name on your lips." He whispered in her ear.

"Anders..." She gasped as he licked a hard pink nipple.

"Mmm. I love it when you indulge me."


	17. Turn and Face the Tiger

**Fenris**

He awoke to the twitching of whiskers and a tickle of fur across his heel. His eyes snapped open. A rat. A big, hairy, brown buck dragging an impressive pair of testicles behind him. He recoiled and stood up, sending the rodent scurrying away.

His head ached worse than he could ever remember it hurting before. Anders hadn't mentioned that pleasant little side effect. It was still better than the alternative.

His stomach grumbled. He wondered if it was safe to go back to his mansion, then cursed himself. Why was he doing this? Why was he hiding? How long would he run from Hawke? A woman who had always been there for him. His friend and companion, and sister in arms. The only woman he had ever given himself to. He worried at the red sash around his wrist, remembering the tenderness and intimacy in her kiss. It had taken his breath away. There was no one who could make him feel the way Hawke made him feel when she looked into his eyes. If anyone was deserving of a chance, it was her.

He had every reason to stay and nurture their friendship, to allow himself to be weak in front of her. And that frightened him, but it was time to stop running.

He emerged from the sewers and slowly made his way back to his mansion.

"Is that the walk of shame?" he heard Isabela laughing at him as he reached his front door. "Oh this is rich. Hawke must be out of her mind. Again!"

"Surely you have somewhere else to be." He said, fumbling with the lock.

"No, sadly. Is that an invitation inside?"

"Keep dreaming."

"Don't be such a prude, Fenris. I'm only trying to get close to you." She said slinking over to him.

"It is not working."

"Suit yourself. Anyway, I found this under your door. I think it's from Hawke." She said. She brought a folded piece of parchment under her nose, smiled suggestively and then began waving it in his face. "It smells like her."

"Give me that." He said, snatching the paper from her hands. "Now leave. I am in no mood right now."

"But if I waited for you to be in the mood, you'd keep me waiting forever."

"In that case you had better get started. Don't forget to hold your breath."

"Fine. I can take a hint. Just don't miss me too much."

He stepped into his mansion and dropped into a chair. He held the letter up to his nose and sniffed it, blushing. Isabela was right. It did smell like her. The salty, tangy, musky scent of Hawke, it was unmistakable. A torment to his senses.

He stared at the folded parchment for what seemed like an eternity. He was unsure if he wanted to know what the letter said. He set it down and headed to the kitchen. He plucked an apple from a basket on the table and took a bite, letting the sweet juices run down his chin.

Maybe he didn't have to read it. Maybe he could pretend it was blown away by the wind, pretend he didn't even know it existed.

No. That was infinitely worse. His curiosity would kill him. And what if Hawke wanted to reiterate the letter to his face? At least this way he could read it here in the privacy of his home.

He painstakingly unfolded it, taking a deep breath. He smiled when he saw Hawke's handwriting. It was as violent and imposing as she was. Her huge letters seemed to sweep across the page with purpose, all arms and legs, as sharp as the edge of her axe. It screamed Hawke. He wished he could have watched her write it.

Fenris,

I searched for you for hours. I would still be searching, except I know you don't want me to find you. I'm worried about you. There are so many things I want to ask, and many things I want to say. If you meant everything you said, if you care about me even a little bit then I beg you, please meet me tonight where we first met. I will wait all night, and if you don't come tonight, I will wait all tomorrow night and the night after that. By myself. In the dark of the dangerous alienage.

M. Hawke

His heart raced. This wasn't what he expected. Not after all that happened. How could she still show such concern for him? For his well-being? Even after he confessed his gruesome dreams to her, she still cared for him. Hawke was worried about him.

That's when he knew. That's when he was sure that he loved Hawke. He knew he could never say the things she wanted to hear, he could never be as tender and attentive as she wanted. He didn't have a honeyed tongue like Anders or much of anything to offer her, really, but he loved her and for once in his life he believed that it was enough.

He needed a bath. He was going to see her tonight: Hawke. The woman he loved.


	18. There's Always Room for Pudding

**Anders**

"What could you possibly need to say to him in private that won't end with my heart broken?" Anders turned away from her to hide the pain in his eyes.

"I already told you. You have nothing to fear. I just want to keep things civil in our group. I am only going to talk to him, ask him a few questions. I will be home later tonight to kiss you and serve you pudding off my bare breasts." She took his hand and placed it on her bosom.

"Mmm pudding. I love pudding, sounds..." he paused. "Damn you, Hawke. This is serious."

"It was worth a shot." She shrugged.

"I just don't understand. Why do you need to do this? Haven't I made you happy? Maker, I've tried so hard." He looked at his feet, pouting and fighting back tears.

"Of course you have. You must know how much you mean to me, how much I enjoy being with you."

"Then please don't go, Hawke. Don't make me beg."

"This is something I must do, Anders. I need you to be supportive. Do you trust me?"

"Absolutely. Eternally and with every fiber of my being." He said without pause.

"Then what is the problem?"

"It's not you I don't trust. It's him."

"It isn't his decision to make. I've already made up my mind. I'm not going anywhere." She planted a kiss on his chin.

Anders sighed. "I just don't understand why I can't be there."

"Because you two hate each other. You nearly killed each other last time. I want things to go back to how they were before everything got so awkward and complicated. If I'm going to do that, I can't have you two at each others' throats."

"I...I understand." He said after a lengthy pause. "At least let me see you safely to the alienage. I would not see you mugged or raped or murdered due to my own negligence."

"I can defend myself, but alright, if it will make you happy."

"It would make me happy if you didn't do this, but I wouldn't lock you up in a tower to keep you from going. I know what that's like."

She put her arms around his neck, smiling. "Just imagine all the filthy things I'm going to do to you later. I want you ready for me when I get back."

"I'm always ready for you, love. Your touch is like lyrium to me." He gave her a weak little smile.

"Isn't there anything I can do to ease your fears?" She said, rubbing his shoulders.

"Aside from not going, you mean. I would need at least one thousand kisses."

"What?" She laughed.

"You heard me. One thousand kisses. Right now. Pucker up." He pointed to his lips. "Or watch me cry like a little girl. I'll do it, too. I'm a very sensitive man."

"Oh Anders, a thousand is a very large number. You'll be bored before I reach a hundred."

"Not a chance." He said, his arms encircling her and pulling her in for the first of many sweet kisses.


	19. More Than Words

**Fenris**

He spent the entire day trying to come up with the words to say to make her understand how he felt, but none of it seemed genuine. None of it was good enough for his Hawke.

This wasn't easy for him. He had always been spare with his words. Speaking at length was discouraged for slaves, besides the frequent "Yes Master" and "As you wish, Master." Feelings never even entered the picture.

There was no way he could beat Anders at his own game. If he was going to try to woo Hawke with compliments and sweet nothings, he was bound to fail. Hawke knew him well enough to know he wasn't a man of words. He was a man of violence and fervor. Hawke would see through his pathetic attempts at flattery with ease. She would probably laugh at him.

No. He would go to her tonight and he would take her in his arms and kiss her. She would see his meaning. If there were words that needed to be said, they would come to him. He hoped.

He was making his way through Lowtown to the alienage when he spotted something in the corner of his eye on a merchant's table. He took a closer look. A necklace. He traced it with his finger. A simple silver chain with a gem as strikingly blue as Hawke's eyes.

"Good eye, messere. A very fine bauble indeed. Orlesian made. She'll be delighted." the peddler said.

"A good guess." Fenris said, rolling his eyes at the heavy-handed sales technique. "How much?"

"Oh, well...I'm a sentimental man. I know young love when I sees it. It's yours for one sovereign."

"That is abominable!"

"My mistake, messere. I thought you was in true love. Ave' a nice evening."

Fenris sighed, counting out his coin. He all but threw it at the merchant.

"A pleasure doing business with you, messere." the merchant said, handing him the necklace.

He made his way to the alienage. The sun was descending slowly over the horizon. It would be hours still until she came, but he would wait.

He rubbed the necklace in his pocket. He hoped Hawke would like it. It probably wasn't worth what he paid for it, but it would stand out so beautifully against her pale skin, the way her eyes did.


	20. Que Serrah?

**Two chapters today. I'm in a good mood and 19 was rather short. Hope you like. :)**

**Anders**

When the time came to leave for the alienage, Anders put on his bravest face and took her by the hand. She looked up at him and smiled. It reassured him very little, but he was glad she cared enough to try. There was nothing he could do now except trust in Hawke's judgment and pray to the Maker that she would return.

It was a crisp evening. Bitterly cold, actually. his breath hovered in front of him opaquely. There was less wind in the alienage, but it was still chilly. He hated leaving her in the cold like this. He pitied Fenris. Poor shoeless bastard.

"Well, we're here." Hawke said.

"Yes, but where is the elf?"

"He'll be here. Go home and get warm." She said.

He looked down at his feet. "Hawke, there's something I have to tell you."

"This doesn't sound good. Can it wait until I get home?"

"It's nothing bad, and no. I've waited long enough." he said, sparing no gravitas.

"What is it Anders? You know you can tell me anything." She said, watching him with those brilliant eyes.

He took a deep breath. "I was going to wait until the right place and the right time, until I was sure that you'd..." his voice trailed off. "but, no, I can't wait any longer. I need you to know how I feel, even if you don't feel the same way. So I'm just going to say it: I love you. I love everything about you. Every scratch and scar, every hair on your head, every word from your lips. Oh Maker, I might die if you don't return to me tonight. My heart will break into a million tiny pieces and I'll just cease to exist. I'll wander the Fade for eternity, calling out your name. Like something out of a children's ghost story. That is how much I love you." A lonesome tear rolled down his cheek. "I love you, Hawke."

"Anders." She smiled, brushing away the tear with her thumb.

"No, not now. Not in this place. If you do love me, tell me tonight when you return. If you don't come home I'll know this was a mistake and I'll be gone by tomorrow."

"But I..."

He interrupted her with a kiss on the lips. Did she return it? He couldn't tell. He rested his forehead on hers and closed his eyes. "Hurry home, Hawke." He whispered, brushing her hair from her eyes.

He looked at her one last time and he walked away, leaving his heart in her hands.


	21. Baby, it's Cold Outside

**Hawke**

Anders loved her. She smiled. Did she love him back? She was unsure, but she was happy. She stared off into the distance where he had left her standing there, smiling like an idiot. It was so very cold without his arms around her. She wanted to chase him and knock him to the ground and kiss him in the middle of the street. Was that love?

She had never been in love before. She felt so many things right now. She was having trouble sorting them out.

All she knew was that Anders made her happy. He listened to her, cherished her, worshiped the ground she walked on, was unwaveringly supportive. And loved her. No one had ever done so much for her. She didn't know if she loved him, but she wanted to be with him. It felt good to be with him. She wanted a chance to make him as happy as he made her. She hoped that was enough.

She shivered. Where was Fenris? Maybe he wouldn't come. Maybe he was still hiding from her. Maybe he left Kirkwall for good. She wondered if he'd be happier if he did, but she desperately didn't want him to go. Despite herself, despite his attempts to push her away, she still cared for him. Maybe that was folly, but she couldn't help it.

Those things he had said in Anders' clinic, she could remember every word. She had wanted so badly to hold him and take away his pain, but he wouldn't want that. Besides, she was with Anders now, and Anders loved her. That was something. It was probably more than she could ever expect from Fenris. Perhaps his feelings began and ended where he had left her that one night. She shuddered. It wasn't the first time she wondered that. The thought hurt no less with time.

She felt like she was being pulled in two different directions. Something inside her belonged to Fenris. It always would. It came out in sparks and bursts when they fought alongside one another. Anders and her shared many things, but this was something she could never give him, something he just couldn't understand. And although Fenris didn't accept this gift with open arms like she had hoped, she knew by the red fabric around his wrist that he cherished it nonetheless.

She sat down on a bench and curled her knees up to her chest, rocking gently for warmth. He would come. He had to come. She would wait as long as it took. She hoped that wasn't long, Anders was probably wearing a hole in her carpet from all of his pacing.


	22. Let's Don't and Say We Did

**Fenris**

He ducked into the shadows when he saw her coming, wanting just to watch her for a moment, this woman he loved. His heart soared and his palms began to sweat. She was breathtaking. Her cheeks looked a touch pinched from the cold and her lips trembled. Her pale face stood out against the darkness of the alienage, drawing in all the light around her like a halo. She looked otherworldly.

Then he noticed that she wasn't alone. _The abomination. _He thought. _She was supposed to be by herself._ He could hear murmuring between the two, but could only make out the occasional word here and there. He had to get closer. He skulked through the darkness to hear them better. What he heard knocked the wind right out of him.

"...I love you, Hawke. I love everything about you..." And so he continued, his sickeningly sweet words flowing from his mouth like blood from an open wound, but Fenris didn't hear anything else. He sank to the ground. He watched in horror as Anders kissed her, as he kissed this woman he loved, and left. She watched him go. She was smiling.

He just sat there in silence for a long time, running his fingers over the necklace in his pocket. He wondered if he should just go, just leave and be done with this fantasy. No, he couldn't leave Hawke here by herself in the dangerous ghetto. He could watch her until morning and then leave the city, but it was a foolish notion. He needed Hawke. He loved her. He would follow her until his legs gave out.

He tried to muster up enough courage to go through with his plan, but it was too late, he'd lost his nerve.

He lost track of time as well, while he was going through the same options over and over in his head. How long had it been since he'd heard the mage confess his love to Hawke? An hour? Two? Still she waited, shivering in the cold for him. He knew her threat was real, she would wait all night for him, perhaps even until the sun came up. He couldn't let her do that, even if she belonged to another.

He slowly stepped from the shadows into the light and moved until he was standing right in front of her. She didn't stir. She seemed lost in thought. He took a deep breath.

"Hello Hawke." She shook her head, blinking several times.

"Fenris." She said. His name on her lips made his knees tremble. "I was beginning to think you wouldn't come."

"I am here." He said.

"I'm so glad." She gave him a genuine smile that made him melt. "Are you well?"

"I am." He replied, feeling anything but, trying not to let it show. "And you?"

"I...I'm fine." She said. "I wanted to talk to you about the other night. I thought about what you said, and I feel no less confused. Will you be open with me?"

He had expected this. He didn't know what kind of explanation he could offer her, but he would try. "If that is your wish." He sat down beside her on the bench, mimicking her stance.

"You said you intended to keep your promise. What did you mean?"

She was looking at him with those piercingly blue eyes. They stood out even now, the only two points of color in the darkness. How could he explain the deal he had made with the mage without confessing how he felt, without confusing and hurting her?

"Hawke, perhaps now is not the time."

She threw her hands in the air and stood up, exasperated. "Then when will it be the time, Fenris? You gave me the most amazing night of my life with your body and took it back with your words not an hour later. You threw me down on the bed and almost took me, then you asked me to leave out of nowhere. You made some kind of shady deal with Anders and you won't tell me. He won't tell me! He says it's not his damn place, so it must be yours." She paused.

"And then there was that moment on the Wounded Coast. I saw the look in your eyes. I know you felt it too, don't even try to deny it." He swallowed hard but said nothing. "What is going on in that head of yours, Fenris? I need to know. Who knows? It might even make you feel better. What did you promise Anders? Why have you been avoiding me?"

"I am concerned that the answer might unsettle you."

"Maker, just tell me Fenris. I'm a big girl. I'm the Champion of bloody Kirkwall. Whatever you need to say, I can handle it."

"Fine." He said. He measured his words at length and then finally said. "Anders asked me not to pursue you until I was certain I could be with you." He looked down at his feet, sheepishly. "He didn't want me hurting you any more than I already had."

She hesitated, perhaps to let it soak in. "And what did you get out of this."

"Apparently nothing. He promised to help me with my nightmares and to keep it a secret from you. I didn't want to worry or confuse you. But you saw what happened."

"I see." She sighed. "And yet you upheld your end of the bargain."

"That is so."

"Why?"

The question came as a surprise. He shifted nervously on the bench. He couldn't seem to find a comfortable position, so he stood. "It seemed like the right thing to do. And up until this afternoon, I wasn't sure how I felt about you."

"But you are now?"

"I am." He said, fidgeting.

"And that is...?" Fenris sensed urgency in her voice, more than a mere curiosity. It made things more difficult.

He looked at the woman he loved, her impossibly blue eyes staring back at him, but it seemed she could see through him. He wet his lips. He took a step back, rattled the necklace in his pocket, turned away. He ran his hands through his hair. Anything to settle the palpitations in his chest. He felt his heart would burst through his chest at any moment.

"Do not ask me this, Hawke. Do not make me do this." He said, pacing in front of her.

"You're a free man, Fenris. I won't make you do anything. I simply asked you a question." She placed a hand on his shoulder. "But I would really like to know the answer. That is, if you'd tell me."

_A free man._ He remembered the first time she had referred to him this way. She had been the first person to ever speak this simple truth. Perhaps the first to even think it. Even he had never thought of himself as truly free until she had spoken those words. He was just a runaway slave on a suicide mission until then. Hawke made him a free man. She had breathed that truth into existence with her own mouth and then fought tooth and nail to make him believe in it, too. He knew she would fight with him against Danarius and his men, against the only people left who would dare deny that claim. He turned to her. His love for her brimming over, but he still couldn't say it. Still couldn't give Hawke her own simple truth, as ironclad and inerrant as the one she had given him. It didn't matter that it was already true, she needed to hear it from his lips and he couldn't say it. Not when there were still so many who threatened to take him away from her. He sighed.

"I can't. I am sorry." He said, his head falling.

She stepped toward him and took his hands in hers.

"I understand." She said solemnly. "Perhaps someday?"

"Yes." He said quietly. "You can count on it, Hawke."

"Where do we go from here?" she asked.

"I will continue to remain at your side until you have no use for me."

"What about me?"

He paused. "You will return to Anders." He said, looking away.

"And you're okay with this?"

"You are asking my permission? You know how I feel about him." He said through gritted teeth.

"I don't know what I'm asking." She said.

He thought for a moment, then shook his head. The thought of another man touching her was like a knife in his chest, but Hawke had lost so much. She needed a type of companionship he could not offer her yet. He knew she would wait for him if only he asked, but he couldn't be that selfish. Not after all she'd done for him. She wasn't his to lay claim to.

"Does he treat you well?" He asked placing a hand on her cheek. "Does he make you happy, Hawke?"

"For now." She said, her eyes glittering with tears. "But..."

"Then I am happy." He interrupted. He could not bear to hear whatever it was she was about to say. He smiled as best he could, placing a soft kiss on her forehead. He pulled her into his embrace and just held her there for a long time. He felt a hot tear drip onto his arm, but said nothing. The least he could do was spare Hawke's dignity. She was a woman, but she was a warrior first. He understood what that meant, and it was what he would have wanted for himself. She would not want his pity.

"Fenris." She whispered it, but it hit him like a sledgehammer. If he didn't let go of her now, he would lose control. He had made the promise to Anders, but he kept it for himself. One day he would be there, an unquestionably free man, a whole man, and he would never leave Hawke's side again. That is, if she would have still him.

He inhaled deeply. "May I escort you to your estate?"

"I would like that." She sniffed, taking him by the hand.


	23. If You Give a Cat a Cupcake

**Anders**

His mind raced. How long had she been gone? Too long? He didn't know. Maybe Fenris hadn't showed up. Maybe that damnable elf left her waiting in the dark in one of the most dangerous parts of the city. But then he was just as guilty of that. He should have stayed and waited with her. Maybe she wouldn't return. Maybe he should be packing. Maybe she was hurt. Maybe she was lying dead in a ditch somewhere in Lowtown.

In his madness he began furiously cooking everything in the kitchen. He didn't know why, it did little to set his mind at ease. It didn't even distract him very much. Six omelettes, a cake, a huge bowl of pudding, two batches of spiced cookies and a pot of soup later he decided it was time to have a seat. If Hawke came back, he hoped she'd bring an appetite.

"Is something troubling you, messere?" Bodahn asked him.

He smiled at the dwarf weakly, offering him a cookie. "I'm just worried about Hawke. She's been gone a long time."

"Ah, I see. Well, don't trouble yourself too much. She is a capable woman. I wouldn't like to get on her bad side."

Anders nodded, getting up to clean his mess.

He hated himself for feeling this way. Hawke promised she'd return, and she always kept her promises. He was acting like a child again, paranoid and overprotective. He went back to their room and stretched out on the bed.

He thought of what he would say to her when she returned. The first of which being "Sorry for cooking all your food, love. I was worried you'd leave me for Fenris." Followed by "I love you" and "is it time for pudding yet?" There were other things too, but they were mostly gasps and moans and "oh Maker!"s. That's how he hoped it went down, anyway. He entertained these thoughts for a bit. They were infinitely more attractive than any of the alternatives.

He didn't notice her come in. He was too busy staring at the canopy and fantasizing.

"Wake up, sleepyhead." She said in a sing-song voice.

"Hawke! You're here." He jumped out of bed and ran to her. "Of course you're here. You said you'd be here and here you are. I missed you so."

"I was home a while ago, but I met a friend at our doorstep. Will you come meet him?"

Anders raised an eyebrow, putting his arms around her and pulling her in toward him. "I'd rather hoped to be alone with you right now."

"It will only take a minute." She grinned.

Anders sighed. "Alright."

"Just out here." She pulled him toward the door. "Be very quiet, I don't want you scaring him away with your clumsiness." He cocked his head to the side, but followed nonetheless.

She led him down the stairs and into the library. There, in the far-most corner was a tiny black kitten with huge green eyes, swatting at a dust bunny. Anders smiled from ear to ear.

"Anders, meet Skipper. Skipper, Anders." Skipper was too distracted to take notice. Anders bent down to pick him up, much to the dismay of the kitten. His eyes darted around frantically, wondering why the ground had suddenly disappeared from under him.

"You got me a kitten?" She nodded. "Such a handsome kitten too." He took her in his other arm. Skipper swatted at Hawke's hair, just barely missing her nose with his sharp kitten claws. He chuckled. "I can already tell, he's going to be as strong and fierce as his mother, with his father's devilish charm and good looks."

She gave him a playful punch on the arm.

Skipper teethed on Anders fingers.

"He's probably hungry. Do we have any cream?" She asked, heading into the kitchen.

Anders turned a ghostly shade of white, dropping the kitten and chasing her through the house. "Wait! Hawke don't..."

"Anders!"

**Thought you could use some happy, what with the dark mood of the rest of this story. :) Never fear, it's not over yet. More tomorrow. **


	24. Cross My Heart, Hope to Die

**Hawke**

Three years had come and gone. She was still the same cocksure warrior who had fled from Fereldon what seemed like a lifetime ago. She still fought for the weak and underrepresented of Kirkwall. She still surrounded herself with the same ragtag group of friends.

The wounds she shared with Fenris healed on their own and everything seemed as it had been before. She'd grown to love Anders in her own way. It wasn't the kind of love Varric would write stories about, but it was love nonetheless. Truth be told, it was more comfortable.

She looked at him tinkering with his distiller, his tongue sticking out the side of his mouth and one eye closed. It still amazed her how long they'd been together. _Three years._ Some of the best years of her life, as it happened. There had been no blight, no poverty, no Arishok to threaten the safety of her city, just her and Anders. The truth was, it was enough.

She crept up behind him and put her arms around him, kissing his neck.

"Not now, Hawke." He said. "Give me five minutes and you can have me all to yourself." She withdrew.

She spent a lot of time in her study these days. She'd read every book on the shelves at least once. She sat down at her desk, shuffling through the stacks of paper when she found a new book hidden among her letters.

It was a leather-bound copy of "The Dread Wolf" by Ialendra. She smiled. "Fenris." She whispered. They often played this little game, hiding gifts among each others' belongings. It was a way to cut through the monotony of life from time to time. A completely innocent way to express their friendship to one another. Truthfully.

In truth, she didn't even think of Fenris that way anymore.

She sighed wistfully and began to read. Before long she became completely engrossed in the book, forgetting everything around her. She hadn't realized just how tired she was until she dozed off, hitting her head on the desk. She placed an envelope in the pages to save her spot and decided to go to bed.

She went to check on Anders again, but he wasn't at his distiller anymore. The pieces were still scattered across the floor, she hoped he intended to clean it up. Orana had enough work.

She peeked through the door to their bedroom and found him asleep, still in his clothes. He must have forgotten the time like she had and gone to bed without her. She crawled in under the covers and snuggled against his sleeping form. He was impossibly warm. She hadn't realized just how cold she was. He stirred.

"Mmh. Can you go on your side of the bed?" He mumbled. She turned over. Skipper jumped up into bed and curled up beside her. She stroked his head until she drifted off to sleep.

She was happy. Maker's truth.

It's funny how time can turn so many truths into lies.


	25. Manual Override

**Fenris**

She'd hidden a bottle of wine at the foot of his bed. He awoke to the cold feeling of glass under his bare feet. He shot up, cursing before realizing what it was. He smirked, fishing the bottle out from the blankets. This wasn't the first bottle she'd hidden for him over the last three years. It was an excellent vintage. Hawke had good taste.

He joked with himself that he should just drink it himself to spite her for the disturbance, because he was completely awake now. No, it would be much more satisfying with Hawke. The wine even tasted better when he could listen to her laugh while he drank.

He allowed his mind to wander carelessly. A dangerous game, he knew. It would inevitably end with him pining over Hawke. It always ended up that way. Every thought pattern eventually led to her. just as he knew his own path would always eventually lead to her. He just had to remove a few obstacles first.

Soon he would find Danarius and end this uphill struggle for a freedom he already enjoyed the comforts of. Once again, a mage was the only thing standing in his way. Two mages, actually, but he no longer thought of the abomination as competition. He seemed to be more interested in tinctures and solutions than Hawke, she'd said as much herself. It was just another testament to his idiocy.

If it was possible, Fenris was even more in love with her than ever. She was a sweet torture to him. Three years amounted to an almost unbearable amount of sexual tension between them. Just her smile could set his skin to tingle. This expensive game, these gifts were their way of reminding one another that it was only a matter of time. Not just a way to pass that time but a promise. If the bottle of wine could talk it would say "Soon, very soon."

He wasn't so guarded with her as he used to be. He smiled more. Laughed more in her presence. It put her at ease and encouraged her to speak candidly with him, or tell him secrets. He loved it when she told him secrets, even just idle gossip. It made them seem that much closer and the whispering itself felt conspiratorial. Not to mention the sensation of her breath on his sensitive ear was tantalizing, to say the least. He had no secrets of his own, but he often whispered back to her, because she blushed when he did. He focused on that image a little longer, smiling to himself. That he could have such an effect on a woman like Hawke was no small source of pride for him.

She no longer apologized as often as she used to. She thanked him. Thanked him for his friendship, thanked him for seeing her, thanked him for listening to her talk, without any recognition that he wanted those things too. Like his mere presence was a gift from the Maker himself. He found himself constantly having to tell her there was no need, that he enjoyed spending time with her, but then she would thank him for saying so. It tickled him to know that a woman as intensely violent as Hawke could be so polite. Her mother's influence, he guessed. That was Hawke, though. She was contrast. A deadly warrior who minded her manners, bright blue eyes on milky white skin...dear Maker, he wanted her.

And then _those_ thoughts came, as they always did. Hawke's curvaceous form demanded it, and he wasn't one to object. He looked out the window. The sun was still making it's way lazily up the horizon. It would be some time before he could start his day. He sighed, slipping his hands into the front of his leggings.

In his mind her arms encircled him, her soft fingers tangling themselves in the sensitive hairs at the back of his neck as he kissed her. She climbed into his lap. His hands searched for purchase in her armor. She took them and directed his fingers to her clasps, which he made short work of. He tossed away her armor, cupping her soft breasts while she worked at freeing him from his jerkin. She pulled it off him slowly and deliberately, caressing his chest and shoulders all the while. She traced the lines of lyrium on his chin, down his neck and chest to his abdomen, her gauzy touch sending shivers up his spine. Her deft fingers knit themselves into the laces on his leggings, causing a deep growl to erupt within him. She hooked her hands into his waistband, pulling them down over his hips, releasing him from his leather bondage. He put lifted her and turned to lay her down underneath of him and kiss her inside a curtain of silver hair.

His hands slid gradually down her, and parted her to find her dripping with anticipation. He slipped a finger inside to guide himself in. She sighed happily. He slid into her, letting out a deep moan of ecstasy. She whispered his name into his ear, he felt a twang in the pit of his chest. It was the most beautiful sound he could imagine.

He rocked into her, trying desperately to fuse them together at the hips with their lovemaking. She wrapped her legs more tightly around him, pressing her heels into his back in encouragement. Her arms pulled him closer, closing the gap between him. Her fingers weaved in his hair. He kissed her, his tongue uniting with hers. His hands pulled her hips to meet his. He pulled away from her lips to kiss and bite on her neck. She gave a soft mewl, tightening around him. He returned the sound. She buried her lips in the crook of his neck. Suddenly she became all kisses and breath, as light and soft as the air around them.

Her fingers ran down his side, making him shiver. She gasped and then let out a quiet laugh. Fenris raised his hands to her cheeks and stared into her smiling blue eyes. He raised an eyebrow. She stroked his side again, causing him to jolt. He growled a little, taking her hands and pinning them above her head. He grinned and slammed hard into her causing a squeal to erupt from her lips. He snorted, winding up again before falling forcefully back in. If it was a contest to see who could get the bigger reaction, he was the victor.

She cried out, and he took his time guiding her over the edge. He was so close, himself. She arched into him, gasping and sighing erratically, her breath on his chest begging him ever closer to bliss. He groaned as she tightened around him. She shouted "I love you." as she soared into ecstasy, bringing him along with her. In that moment they ceased to be Hawke and Fenris, man and woman, but another beast altogether, baying and roaring and clawing itself into existence. And then everything was quiet.

Fenris scowled, his hands and abdomen sticky. It dawned on him that he was alone. The woman he loved was somewhere else, probably still asleep in the arms of another man. Not just another man, but _Anders_. He rose from his bed. Soon was simply not soon enough. He had to find Danarius. He needed to kill his former master so he could claim his place at Hawke's side before it was too late.


	26. Last Ditch

**Anders**

The first two years that he and Hawke were together had been the best of his entire life. He hoped it would never end, but Justice would no longer brook any threat against his mission, especially with Meredith and her templars running the city. He fought a losing battle with the spirit for his own independence of will. Justice claimed more and more ground in his mind. He felt himself slipping away by the day. Soon Anders would cease to exist at all. It felt like it was a lost cause. Then he remembered something.

During his time with the Warden-Commander in Vigil's Keep, she had told him many stories of her adventures with her companions during the Blight. He recalled the story of Arl Eamon's boy, Connor, who had been possessed by a desire demon. First Enchanter Irving used a ritual to send Wynne; a circle mage into the Fade to slay the demon. It had taken an inordinate amount of lyrium, but the boy lived and so did the mage who freed him. He remembered meeting her in Amaranthine with the Warden-Commander, very much alive, indeed.

It was a hard decision for him to make. Justice had been his friend. But Justice hadn't existed for years. Anders' corruption and anger had turned him into Vengeance. Vengeance had no time for love or friendship unless it gave him a means to an end. He would use Hawke just as he used Anders if he thought it would grant him the retribution he sought.

Anders had always hoped he would die for his cause, in a blaze of glory, giving Justice renewed purpose and freeing him. Anders was just a man, but Justice was an ideal, he was important. He knew there were other spirits of justice, but he felt this world needed all the justice it could get. That was, until he fell in love with Hawke.

Hawke had given him faith. She made him believe that he could stand and fight against the cruelty and oppression of the templars, and that good would somehow triumph over evil. Maybe that was naive, but If there was any way to resolve things between templars and mages peacefully, she would find it and now he dared hope that he could be alive to see it through together, that he could stand beside her and rebel against inequality and abuse, to make a better world for the future or die trying. That was why he had to try. That was why he had to do this.

There were many problems with the plan, not the least of which being the exorbitant amount of lyrium necessary for the ritual. Lyrium was expensive and highly regulated by the templars. There was a lot of research to be done. He needed to send a mage into the Fade, and it couldn't be himself. The only one he knew who would agree to such a thing was an insane Dalish blood mage. He shuddered to think of that. There was also the fact that he couldn't tell Hawke. This was a dangerous plan, perhaps even a suicide mission. He didn't want to give her a false sense of hope when it was such a long shot. Finally, Justice wasn't a simple desire demon. He was a powerful spirit, an embodiment of strength and righteous fury. Killing him would be difficult at best. Merrill would need to be trained. He had to get to work right away.

It was not a light at the end of the tunnel, it was a shot in the dark, but he had no other option. He didn't know if it would work. Even if it did, he wasn't sure how much was left of the Anders who had been, or if what was lost could be regained. He could risk his life only to end up tranquil or dead anyway. All he knew was that he needed to try and he needed to work quickly.

He spent his days researching the ritual, and at night he made potions with rare reagents to sell. He found that the mindless task of grinding plant-matter, and brewing potions kept Justice at bay, which gave him a sense of clarity and conviction. He set up a small lab in Hawke's estate, so he could work away from the clinic when necessary. Hawke probably thought he was making them for the clinic. If she suspected anything, she didn't say a word, but then again, they didn't spend much time together these days.

He knew she was missing him, and it broke his heart, but he couldn't tell her his plan. It was a last ditch attempt for a life together with her. She was worth it. He didn't intend to keep going if he failed. Merrill would have to put him out of his misery. He knew Hawke would never accept that. He could only hope that he made it through this, and if he did that she would understand and give him another chance. What was left of him loved her completely and totally. For right now that would have to be enough.

He would go see Merrill tonight.


	27. An Apple a Day

**Some fluff for you. I hope the linguistics gods won't smite me for using google translate for Fenris' "Arcanum." **

**Another two chapter day. Patience has never been my forte. Hopefully the updates aren't driving you all mad. I've been trying to push you all toward a pivotal part of the story, and we're almost there. Once that happens, I swear this won't happen as often. Thanks for all your support. :)**

**Hawke**

Hawke perused the Hightown stalls in the chilly morning air. She tried to contain the smile that threatened to creep across her face. Maker, she was positively giddy. _Tonight. _She thought. _Tonight I'll have dinner with the most handsome elf in all of Kirkwall. _

She plucked a ripe blood orange from a display, pressing some coins into the merchant's hand and tucking it into her basket. A cart full of shiny red apples caught her eye, she bought four. She knew they were his favorite.

A bird chirped a merry song in the distance while the sun tried to warm her skin. A pleasant morning, but it would be miserably cold later. She was trying to think warm thoughts to keep herself from shivering when someone reached around and grabbed her. A hand clamped down over her mouth, an elbow hooked around her waist and pulled her into a secluded alleyway. She instinctively bit down hard on the attacker's palm, he let out a roar of pain.

"Vitiosus caetus draco cum pugione dentes!" He rubbed his palm on his leggings. "I think you drew blood, Hawke."

"Oh Fenris," she chuckled. "Why would you do that?"

"I was trying to be playful. Do not worry, it will not happen again." She giggled. He gave her a wry smile.

"What did you call me?"

"Roughly 'vicious shark-dragon-beast with daggers for teeth.'"

She grinned, placing her hand on the crook of his elbow to walk beside him. "Did you need something at the market?"

"Judging by the contents of your basket, no." He fished out an apple and took a bite.

"I bought those for later!" She poked him in the ribs.

Fenris swallowed. "Yes, and then you bit me." He said, grabbing another apple from her basket and taking a bite out of that one.

She rolled her eyes, stifling a laugh. "You're impossible, Fenris."

"You are _rabid_, Hawke."

She laughed. "So you found the wine, then?"

"My foot discovered it. It roused me from a restful dream."

"It must have been a pleasant morning for you then, waking up to a gift from a beautiful woman." she raised an eyebrow.

"Perhaps." his face turned a bright shade of pink, he looked away and took another bite of one of the apples.

Hawke gasped. "Fenris, did you just blush at me?"

"No."

"There it is again." She snickered.

"Don't be absurd."

"If you say so." Hawke smirked. "Did you have plans before this evening?"

"Aveline said she needed to speak with me later. Why?"

"Varric and Isabela are coming over for cards, I thought you might like to join us."

"Under normal circumstances, I would gladly come."

"I know. You still owe me, by the way."

"Yes. Gold, gratitude, my life on a few occasions. Perhaps someday I will be able to repay you for everything."

"No Fenris, you...I was only teasing you. You and I are square, as far as I'm concerned. Your friendship and aid throughout the years is more than enough. Thank you, truly."

Fenris smiled. "Once again, there is no need to thank me. I enjoy your company."

He walked her back to her estate in silence, but it wasn't an awkward silence. She and Fenris had that rare bond. They didn't need to constantly talk to liven the mood. It was enough to be near one another.

When they reached the door, they looked at each other.

"Thank you for walking me back."

Fenris crossed his arms and frowned. "Hawke..."

"I know, I know, 'no need.' But there is, for me at least. I guess it's a weakness of mine. I need the people I care about to know how I feel."

Fenris looked hurt for a second. Oh maker, she hadn't meant it that way. She hoped he wouldn't dwell on that one, but it was too late to take it back now.

"I...I think I understand. It is not a weakness, although it is unnecessary. There was never any doubt that you are my friend."

"Best friend."

"True." He said.

"And stunningly beautiful."

Fenris blushed again. "I believe that goes without saying."

"And the strongest warrior in all of Thedas."

"Don't press your luck."

She grinned. "See you later?"

"Of course."


	28. Mad About You

**I dislike it when writers reenact scenes from the game word-for-word. I figure, if you wanted that you would probably just play DA2. I might have just skipped it, but it sets the mood for the next chapter, so I left it in. Enjoy. **

**Fenris**

"Are you sure?" Fenris asked.

Aveline nodded. He slammed his fist down on the desk.

"I'd have thought you'd be happy."

"It is too convenient. She's too eager. It has Danarius' stench all over it."

Aveline frowned. "You think it's a trap."

"Almost certainly."

"Danarius hasn't bothered you for years. Not since you sent his star pupil back to him with a hole in her chest. What makes you think he's suddenly on the hunt again?"

"How can you not see it?" He growled. "He hasn't given up, he's been biding his time, waiting for the right moment to swoop in for the kill, probably amassing an army of foul demons. Hawke's reputation could not stay his hand forever. This is just the excuse he needed."

"I don't think..."

"No, you don't. That is clear." He snapped. "What do you know of bondage? You have no idea what Danarius is capable of. This is not a matter of reclaiming lost property anymore, his pride demands that I pay for my insolence, either with my blood or a lifetime of servitude. That is his nature. Then my sister agrees to come. A remnant of my past shows up on my doorstep wrapped just as nicely as you please and you don't think Danarius has delivered her himself? You are a fool!"

"But what if you're wrong?"

"Venhedis!" He threw a book across the room. This was going nowhere.

"That is all I can tell you, Fenris. All I know is that she's here and she's staying at the Hanged Man. I'm sorry."

He punched the wall as hard as he could.

"Am I interrupting something." Hawke asked quietly.

"Thank the Maker. Hawke, I leave this in your capable hands. Good luck." Aveline said, taking her leave.

"Is everything alright?" She asked, her blue eyes fixed on him.

"Malum! _Plus_ ineptus quaestiones." He threw his hands in the air. "What does it look like, Hawke?"

"I can't help you if you don't tell me what's going on."

He laughed at her. "Your arrogance will be your undoing. You have no idea what you ask."

"Well, I don't have time for this. Come find me when you're done being an ass." Hawke said, and began walking toward the door.

"Wait." He said without knowing why.

"Give me one good reason why I should."

He sighed. "It's my sister." He said, pausing to let that soak in. Hawke furrowed her brow. "She's here in Kirkwall."

"Okay, I'll bite. Which part of that sentence makes you seethe with rage?"

"The part where I'd be walking into an obvious trap."

"Danarius." She gritted her teeth, slumping into a chair. She leaned forward on the desk, resting her forehead in her hands. "He would dare! Where is she?"

"At the Hanged Man."

"Then let us go. Danarius dies tonight."

"It's been ten years since my escape. He will have assembled a legion of demons by now."

She stood up. Her lips curled into a vicious little smile. "Then we'll send his pets with him to the Black City."

"Do not underestimate Danarius. His power is unyielding."

"And so is mine!" She boomed, her voice thunder and lightning. It nearly knocked the wind out of him.

He chuckled despite himself. "Truly." He bent down to pick up the book he'd thrown. "Still, we should proceed with caution. Who knows what depraved machinations he has prepared over the years?"

"I'm done playing games. Bring the pain."

Fenris stared at her, but she was elsewhere. In that instant she was no longer Hawke but an angel of death, an avatar of dominance and rage, she radiated power and shined like a sun. It was conceivable that she could lay waste to the entire Imperium on her own.

He loved and feared her more than he'd ever imagined possible right then, and he felt ashamed for having doubted her. She was a force to be reckoned with. Danarius would surely break himself against her.

"Hawke, this is...I...thank you."

She began walking towards the door. She glanced over her shoulder at him. "You can thank me when Danarius is dead." She paused. "When there is no man left in Thedas to deny your autonomy." His pulse quickened.

"Hawke." He whispered.

"Prepare yourself. This ends now." And with that she left.


	29. You Won't Like Me When I'm Angry

**Anders**

His plans to visit Merrill in the alienage were canceled when Hawke burst into the clinic, eyes flickering murder. The door slammed open into the wall so hard it was a wonder it didn't splinter and fall apart. He had never seen her so furious and determined before. He thought for a second that somehow she had found him out. Somehow she knew about his half-baked scheme. He backed away from her.

"Hello, my love. How was your day?" He asked nervously, loosening his collar.

"I need your help." She said. He gave a sigh of relief.

"Is everything alright?"

"No, but it will be." She said.

"Care to elaborate?"

"Fenris's sister is here in Kirkwall."

He mouth began to move of it's own accord. Justice was not happy. "And you think his former master has something to do with it. You need my help to defeat him." Hawke nodded. He turned away taking a few deliberate steps for appearance sake and then turned back to her. "Surely you're joking."

He didn't recognize the look of unholy anger on her face just then. She glowered at him. He fought to control his voice, to stop the words from coming out of his mouth, but he couldn't.

"You want me to help this mage-hating pup - your former lover - kill a Tevinter magister? Are you mad?"

Hawke strode up to him, purpose in her step. Her face contorted with rage. She reached back and smacked him with an inhuman strength, knocking him across the floor. He slid into a table of paperwork, banging his head on the desk and sending the pages flying everywhere. She stood over him with daggers in her eyes and lifted him by the front of his coat, just inches from her face.

"Three years of my life I have shared my home, my fortune and my bed with a fool. I have given you everything. I have stood beside you unquestioningly as a protector, lover and friend, and I haven't said a word since you started giving me the cold shoulder. And now you dare...you have the audacity to turn your back on me over some petty rivalry you have with one of my companions? You ask me if I've gone mad? Yes. I must have lost my mind for the last three years to believe I could trust in your allegiance. And now I continue with this folly and give you one last chance: fight me or fight with me. Either way you are coming. It is your choice how many pieces you leave in." She let go of him, letting him slump back against the desk.

His hand reached up to touch his cheek, feeling more like himself. "I...oh Maker, I'm sorry Hawke. Justice took over. Of course. Of course I'll help you. Just say the word."

A look of horror crossed her eyes as she seemed to realize what she had said, what she had done. He knew the feeling all too well. She reached out her hand and pulled him to his feet.

"Remind me never to take the piss out of you." He laughed, rubbing his cheek.

"I'm sorry. I'm not myself."

"I understand. If it was you I would have done the same thing." He said solemnly. "We have a magister to kill. Lead the way."

As they stepped out of the clinic into Darktown, he noticed the darkened figures of Varric and Fenris. They turned toward Hawke, looking at her with the same frightened bewilderment he had seen her with just a moment before.

"To Lowtown." Hawke said. "Quickly. Let's finish this once and for all."


	30. Magister? I Hardly Know Her!

**Hawke**

It was a trap, just as Fenris expected. For a moment he didn't see it, too distracted with the sight and memory of his sister, but Hawke noticed immediately that the Hanged Man was empty except for Varania. She didn't hear the conversation between the two. Her eyes darted about frantically, searching for any sign of Danarius.

"I'm sorry, Leto." She heard Varania say. Fenris's eyes widened with realization.

"Fenris, you're looking well." A voice spoke from the stairwell. "And this must be the Champion of Kirkwall. Your reputation precedes you, Lady Hawke. Stories of your exploits are quite popular in Minrathous, although they fail to mention how beautiful you are."

"Shut up, Danarius." Fenris growled.

He ignored Fenris, keeping his eyes on Hawke. His gaze made her feel unclean. He licked his lips. "Tell me, Champion: how are you enjoying my pet? You seem like a woman of exceptional tastes, and Fenris is quite delicious, indeed. His prowess on and off the field is unmatched, as I'm sure you're aware. I tempered his body for stamina, myself. In fact, I taught him everything he knows. I venture to think he may have even enjoyed some of it."

"You monster!" Hawke yelled, drawing her axe.

He continued. "Ah. But you've had enough fun, and now you must return him to me. Consider it a loan of sorts. From one master to another."

"Fenris has no master but himself."

"Fenris doesn't have it in him to lead. Not even himself. That is what has made him so useful to you. But he is welcome to believe that, at least until he is back in my service."

"You will have to go through me first." She said, hatred flickering in her eyes.

"I had wished it wouldn't come to that, but as you wish."

Danarius dropped a dagger from his sleeve and slashed his wrist with one quick movement. Suddenly they were surrounded by a horde of desire and rage demons. Slave hunters emerged from behind the counter, weapons drawn.

Fenris and Hawke fell into their dance of death. Time ceased to exist in this place. They moved with a frightening, unnatural efficacy. Each blow was fatal, sending a monster screaming back to the void. It was a few minutes before they realized that the demons kept coming. They looked at each other in unison, their eyes widened.

She felt her anger fueling her. She cleaved through two enemies with a wicked chop. She let out a great roar and sundered a desire demon on her axe, the momentum throwing it into another demon and sending them both to the ground.

Anders drew a rune of protection on the floor, keeping the enemies away from him. It would only deter them for so long, but hopefully it was long enough to keep him alive. If Anders was alive, he could keep them alive. Varric defended him, letting loose three arrows into an oncoming group of abominations. They fell over all at once, revealing another row of drooling demons.

A rage demon landed a vicious blow across Hawke's forearm. The flesh separated. _That will leave a mark._ She thought. She could feel the wound corrupting and festering almost instantly, decreasing her speed and weakening her blows. Poison. Anders must have sensed this, as he tossed her a potion. She drank it and felt it numb the area, allowing her to fight at her normal proficiency. It would be a lot of pain later.

She thought she heard Danarius let out a raucous cackle. She gritted her teeth. Adrenaline coursing through her, she bowled over her attackers. She heard Fenris call out "Hawke no! You can't..." but she was undeterred. If Danarius was dead, Fenris could be free and safe. If the choice was between her and her friend, there was only one option.

"A most unwise choice, Lady Hawke." Danarius sneered as she approached. He was channeling some spell. His hands glowed red around an orb. As she drew back her axe, he closed his fist around it and punched her in the gut.

She was knocked backward. The world began to spin and sway. She could see Anders and Fenris calling out to her, but she couldn't hear their words. She looked down at her hands, they clutched her stomach which was bleeding. A lot. Anders was suddenly upon her, saying something, yelling at her. Then everything turned black.


	31. Slave For You

**Fenris**

"No!" Anders screamed. "No, Maker no! Hawke, stay with me!" Fenris felt a tinge of fear at the worry he heard in their healer's voice.

The pommel of a sword knocked him to his knees. A pair of hunters restrained his arms behind his back. This wasn't right. Why did Danarius order them to stop attacking? Something was horribly wrong.

"What are you doing, Danarius?" Fenris barked.

"You should have listened when you had the chance, my pet. Things could have been as they were. Now all of Minrathous will pay good coin to spend a night with the bitch who slayed the Arishok."

"No!" He struggled, he kicked and bit, but it was no use. "No! You can't!"

"Why not?"

He hung there, suspended by his arms, utterly powerless. And then he knew what he must do. Fenris hung his head. "Leave her. Take me instead. I will come of my own accord. Without a fight."

Danarius considered it for a moment, scratching his beard. "And will you serve me willingly?"

He didn't look up. "Yes, master."

"Very tempting, but what's to stop the Champion and her other companions from following you? Assuming she lives, of course."

He thought for a second and then looked up at Anders. "Let me talk to them. I'm sure they will see reason."

"Good lad. I'll be waiting outside." Danarius smiled, exiting the door. His henchman followed, letting Fenris fall forward onto his face. He lay there momentarily on the cold wooden floor, knowing that the battle was over. This _life_ of his was over. He had lost and there was nothing he could do. Hawke had been his last chance. He was a fool to have brought her here. Now all of his worst fears had come true. He was a slave again and she was dying because of him.

He rose, approaching the crumpled body of the woman he loved more than more than the freedom he had spent ten years fighting for.

He knelt down beside Hawke and Anders, a look of resignation across his features. Anders had stopped the bleeding and closed the wound, but she looked deathly pale. "Will she live?"

"Only time will tell. I've done all that I can for the moment. She's in the Maker's hands now."

He stroked her face.

"Please tell me you know what you're doing, Fenris." Varric said. "This seems like a really bad plan."

"It is not a plan." he said.

"Then what is it?" asked Anders.

"A trade." He said.

"Hawke would never agree to those terms. You know that." Anders said.

Varric agreed. "She's not going to like it at all. She won't take this lying down, well, when she wakes up anyway."

"She'll be on her way to Tevinter as soon as her eyes open." Anders said.

"Then you must tell her that I am dead. Tell her Danarius took my remains. Whatever you do, promise me that you will not allow her to come."

Anders gaped at him. He could feel the mage's eyes upon him.

"We could still rescue you, elf. Hire an army of our own and take a little vacation in the Imperium. I've heard it's lovely this time of year." Varric patted Bianca.

"No!" He shouted. "Danarius will take my will and all my memories of my time with her. I will not recognize her face. He will order me to kill her and I will do it without hesitation or mercy. I...I beg of you." He said. "Please keep her out of Minrathous." He turned to Anders. "If you love her, then promise me you will do this."

"Fenris I..." Anders frowned.

"Promise me! Say it now!"

"I will not allow her to follow."

Fenris gave a sigh of relief.

He turned to Hawke, tracing her lips with his finger. Anders looked away. He twined his hand through her hair, taking a deep breath. "Valea, adore ma." He whispered. He removed the crest from his belt, then he slowly untied the red scarf from his wrist and closed his fist around it. He shut his eyes and without looking, handed them both to Anders. He fixed his gaze upon her for the last time, then leaned over to press a solemn kiss on her lips, knowing full well it was the last thing he would ever do as a free man. He rose to leave.

"You really do love her, don't you?" Anders asked.

Fenris stopped in his tracks, he turned ever so slightly toward the mage and balled his fists. "Tell her for me?"

"Of course." Anders said.

In the end slavery was not a cell, not a torture chamber. It was a door. A door he had passed through many times during his time with Hawke. Fenris stepped outside.


	32. Dream Vacation

**Hawke**

The world was dark and empty, except for the thick fog around her. She stood and walked aimlessly in this barren world. She wondered if she was dead. Then she wondered what she had done to keep her from sitting beside the Maker.

Her eyes adjusted to the blackness of the place. In the distance there were some standing corpses of trees. They stretched out over a small pond - more like a puddle actually - of bubbling black water. A swamp of some kind.

It was a long time before she heard any sounds, and then it was just the echo of her footsteps. Occasionally, she would step on a twig and it would snap, and she would have to cover her ears because the sound was so unbearably loud.

Then she heard the voices, booming down on her from the clouds. "You must tell her that I am dead."

"Fenris! Fenris are you here?" She called, searching the tall swaying grass for any sign of her companion. She heard indistinct mumbling for a few moments.

"...we could still rescue you...Imperium..."

"Varric! Where are you? I'm here!" She called. She climbed one of the gnarled trees, digging her feet into the rotted bark. It cracked beneath the weight of her, sending her crashing back to the ground.

The voices seemed further away now. "No!...I beg of you...Please...Minrathous."

"Fenris." She sobbed. She thought she heard Anders, but could not make out whatever it was he was saying.

"Valea adore ma." Fenris' voice said, louder than before and a bolt of lightning streaked across the sky, rending a distant tree in two. She curled up on her side, wailing with tears. She felt a warm feeling on her lips for only a second or two.

"What's happening? What foul magic is this?"

"You really do love her, don't you?" Anders asked, but she heard no answer, only the rumbling of thunder from a distance, low and soft. She tucked her knees into her chest.

And then it was quiet, but for the grass swaying in the wind.


	33. While You Were Away

**Anders**

Anders feared the potion he was using for pain relief wasn't strong enough. She would often thrash in the bed next to him at night. Sometimes she made pained sounds, sometimes she sounded like she was weeping, other times she said words or part of a sentence. Most often however, she would whisper "Fenris." almost inaudibly. She said "Anders." with much less frequency. It stung more than he wanted to admit.

He neglected the clinic altogether. All he wanted to do was hold her in his arms and read to her for hours at a time. He knew she loved to read. He wondered if she could hear him, because she was so still when he did. It seemed like she was listening.

Her friends came to visit, one by one every day. Isabela would climb into bed beside her and stroke her back, telling tales of her various exploits as a lusty buccaneer on the high seas. She talked about her ship like it was a person. A person she was sleeping with, usually. Merrill would comb her hair and jabber endlessly about nothing; her favorite soup recipe, the sweet family of mice living in her walls, nice trees she had discovered, there was nothing too mundane for Merrill to discuss at great lengths. Varric would tell stories, most often about herself. Aveline would sit silently beside her, holding her hand. Skipper never left her side except to eat and use his box.

One night she kicked and mumbled so much that he came running into the bedroom, thinking she had woken up. He fell to his knees and started crying into her hand when he saw she was still unconscious.

"Hawke, you need to wake up now." He begged her through his tears. "Kirkwall needs you. I need you. Please come back."

Nothing.

"I love you. I know that means very little after how I have treated you this past year. I wish I could tell you why, but I have a plan to set things right, I promise." He felt ashamed for promising her such a thing, but he hoped she heard it all the same. He brushed a lock of black hair from her eyes.

"I...I know I was never your first choice, but that day you came to my clinic...it was the best day of entire life. Fenris and I never got along, but in truth I was grateful for the time he allowed me to have with you. He told me..." He swallowed, stifling a sob. "He told me to tell you that he loved you before he..." He sniffed. "He would have told you himself but then you..." He couldn't bring himself to finish his thoughts. They seemed so final, so damning.

He composed himself as best he could. "Anyway, just come back, Hawke. The city isn't the same without you." He stroked her cheek lazily. "The templars are at it again. It's never been more dangerous to be a mage in Kirkwall. Meredith has already written you off as a loss. Big surprise. Without your protection it's only a matter of time before they come for me and then I'll have to blow up the Chantry and it will be all your fault." He laughed bitterly.

"Anders."


	34. If You Could See Me Now

**Fenris**

Fenris slept in a hold deep in the bowels of the ship, but for the most part he was allowed to wander about the decks freely. He was grateful for the wind and the spray on his cheeks. The month and a half at sea was relatively uneventful. There was no one to guard Danarius from in the middle of the ocean.

One morning he saw a whale breaching. He was overcome by the sight of it. Amazed that something could be so free and yet so alone.

After some time it began to get warmer and the sea was bluer. He knew they were close. Perhaps somewhere off the coast of Rivain. The wind was at their back. It would only be a week or so more.

The minute they docked in Minrathous, Danarius gave up on pretending to be kind and merciful. Fenris was publicly flogged for his disobedience, five lashes for every year since his escape, and then he continued until Fenris cried out, trying to break him of his will and make an example of him to the other slaves. _This is what happens when you try to escape._ They did not say this, but it didn't need to be said.

His men dumped him into a dark pit for two weeks. The only time he was allowed to see light or hear voices was during his one meal a day: usually some hard black bread and a small glass of water. They would lower it down to him in a bucket, jeering at him. By the fifth day he found a tiny hole in the wall he could hear voices through. He began talking to them through it, though they never answered except to slam the hilt of their swords on the floor to shut him up.

They finally retrieved him only to throw him into a cell somewhere. There was some light there, and the room was bigger. Room enough for him to exercise at least. There was even a hole in the ground for him to relieve himself in. They brought him two meals that day. He was beginning to think that the worst was over, when a guard came in and ordered him to remove his clothes. He took off his jerkin and his leggings, his gauntlets and his belt. The guard continued to stare at him. "Everything. Magister's orders." The guard grinned. He removed his small clothes, trying to cover himself with his hands to protect what little dignity he had left. The guard tossed him a rough sack with holes for his neck and arms and a short length of rope to use as a makeshift belt. His new vestments didn't do much for modesty. If he lifted his arms or bent over, he was exposed.

That night was freezing. He curled up on his side, trying to ignore the guard staring in at him.

A week later he was taken to the slave quarters to resume his duties as Danarius' personal bodyguard. As the magister's favorite, he had his own tiny room, adjacent to the packed den where the rest of the slaves slept. He was given clean clothes, a small bed and bar of soap, which he nearly used all at once, trying to wash the lecherous guard's eyes off him, and he still felt unclean.

It was very easy for him to fall back into his old routine. Things were much like he remembered them to be. He even recognized some of the slaves who had been there before he escaped. The new ones gaped at him and his strange markings, making no effort to avert their eyes. Fenris scowled at them, and they went back to their business.

He thought of Hawke constantly. At first it was a torment. It would have been better for Danarius to take his memories. He was cursed to remember her, and never to see her or hear her sweet voice again. Every word she'd ever said echoed in his mind like a chorus, like a chant. He saw her face everywhere. He swore he could feel her hands caressing him when he laid down to sleep at night.

He nearly begged Danarius to take his memories, all of them if only it would give him reprieve from his longing. But then after a while he knew that Hawke was the only safe place left in his world, even if she was only in his mind. Even if she was just a ghost from a time and place that no longer existed for him.


	35. I of the Storm

**Hawke**

She didn't know how long she had been in the bog. Weeks? Months? There were no living things in this place, not unless you counted the voices of her friends. Most often it was Anders, but there were other voices too. Varric, Isabela, Merrill, Aveline...all except Fenris. Why couldn't she hear his voice? As time passed (if it did indeed pass at all) she could sense more and more desperation in those voices.

Eventually the voices helped her discover what was happening. She was asleep, and she must have been asleep for a long time. But if this was a dream it was unlike any she'd ever had before. Most times when she realized she was dreaming she would wake up, but not now. No, this wasn't a dream. It was some kind of prison inside her own mind.

She pieced together that she was somewhere safe, perhaps her bed or Anders' clinic, and that the voices she was hearing were actually her friends, visiting her at her bedside. It was a comforting thought, except she still couldn't understand why she never heard Fenris. She couldn't help but feel a little angry at him for abandoning her during her time of need.

It explained many things, like why she couldn't fall asleep here. Maker knows, she had tried. Anything to make time go by, but it was not possible.

It also explained the occurrences of sympathetic touch she'd been experiencing. "The phantom hands" she called them. She tried to relax when it happened, but it was just too disconcerting no matter how she tried. Every now and then her mouth would open against her will and she would feel, taste liquid pouring down her throat - broth or water and sometimes a bitter fluid that must have been medicine - but there was no bowl in front of her. She felt hands lift and move her every so often. Once in a while she even felt her clothes come off and warm soapy water on a sponge wash over her, but when it was over she was in her armor and she was completely dry. It was a strange thing, to say the least.

She needed to find a way out of here, but there didn't appear to be any clear exit. Could it possibly be as simple as that? She doubted it.

She started running. The good thing about the bog was that since she couldn't sleep, she also couldn't tire from movement. She didn't grow hungry or dehydrated because Anders was caring for her in the real world. She was a machine. She hadn't noticed before, but her legs weighed nothing. She could sprint long distances without having to catch her breath. So she did.

She searched as she ran, for something, anything that stood out. Anything special or foreign to this place, but everything looked exactly the same. There were rocks, dead trees, bubbling ponds, some tall grass that waved in the wind. That was it. No color, no light, no man-made device.

She imagined that if she kept running in one direction she would either reach a place that was different or find the edge of this world, but neither occurred no matter how far she ran. For all she knew, the bog went on forever or looped in on itself.

She couldn't measure her time in days and nights as it was always dark here. There was a moon, or at least an implied one, but it never passed over the horizon. Never waxed or waned. There was no sun, no stars. Only the moon with it's veil of clouds. Sometimes it did rain and storm, but it was always in the far off distance, ever pulling away from her.

She tried pinching herself as hard as she could. That didn't work either.

As a last resort, she tried simply willing herself to wake up. She wasn't asleep for lack of wanting to be awake,, but she'd tried everything else. Perhaps she just hadn't focused keenly enough. She visualized herself opening her eyes, sitting up, letting her legs dangle off the side of the bed, placing her feet one at a time on the floor, stretching and then standing up. She imagined herself blinking and seeing the sun shining through the curtains, the feeling of the carpet under her toes, her robes swishing against her calves.

The sky began to crack with thunder far off in the distance. A bolt of lightning licked the ground. Was it only a coincidence? Had she caused that?

She tried again. This time she imagined the smell of herbs and the faint hint of formaldehyde. The cot would rock as she sat up. Anders would be standing with his back towards her, bent over his still or grinding plants in his mortar. She saw the color of his robes, heard the jangling of his chains as he worked. She would push herself out of the cot and he would stop what he was doing and turn slowly towards her.

The storm was getting closer now. Threads of lightning lashed the earth, she could see the smoke rising up now. The clouds began to spiral ominously. It was working.

His eyes would widen. He would drop what he was holding, sending it crashing to the ground, and run to her with tears in his eyes. He would say...

"Hawke, you need to wake up now." Wait, no. That wasn't right. She would already be awake. "Kirkwall needs you. I need you. Please come back."

The winds whipped at her back, pulling her toward the vortex. Soon, she thought.

"He told me to tell you that he loved you before he..."

The storm touched down. She was being pulled into it. She grasped at a root embedded in the ground, holding on for dear life, but it snapped. She grabbed for any kind of purchase, dug her fingers into the earth.

"He would have told you himself, but then you..."

The sky cracked open, revealing intense white light. She lost hold of the ground and was sucked up into the storm. Up towards the white wound she had torn in the bog with her mind.


	36. Ballroom Blitz

**Fenris**

Another dinner party. How he hated them. They usually ended in a drunken orgy, which thankfully Fenris was not forced to be a part of, but he would have to wait in the room until it was over to ensure his master's safety. It amazed him how Danarius could allow himself to copulate with people he didn't even trust not to try and kill him, then again, everyone in Minrathous wanted to kill everyone. It was the Tevinter way.

He stood stone still as the magisters and apprentices came to greet their host with their consorts, as was considered polite. Oddly enough the conversation itself never ended up being polite at all. It usually started out with some thinly veiled insults disguised as compliments and ended with the guest storming off in a huff. Fenris had to admit that it was entertaining to see the prosperous and profligate alike scorned. Danarius was good at it, he gave him that much.

Danarius had just accused a flashy young magister of being nouveau riche in a roundabout way when a table caught fire. _Oh good. The pyromancers have already started._ Fenris rolled his eyes. Danarius was giving him a pointed look.

He puffed out his chest, attempting to appear even more threatening than he was and approached the offending apprentice, tapping him abruptly on the shoulder. The young man turned to him, the scent of alcohol wafting from his gaping maw.

"What do you want?" the apprentice asked.

"I think it is time you left." Fenris said. The apprentice laughed. Fenris scowled at him in his typical manner until he stopped. "Shall I show you the door?"

"Not necessary." And with that he left. Fenris returned to Danarius' side.

"Good lad." His master said, watching some other slaves attempting to put out the fire.

"Thank you, master." Fenris replied.

The night went on mostly as expected of such an event. There was dancing, of course. Choreographed magic routines - little more impressive than a series of parlor tricks - took place between courses. Of them, there were eleven in all, and several dozen wines for the tasting, all Orlesian in origin. The food was served by bare-chested slave women, some he thought he recognized.

A pretty elven slave, no older than thirteen with budding breasts and a dimpled chin smiled suggestively at Fenris as she handed Danarius a glass of red. The magister didn't seem to notice it, thankfully. Fenris raised an eyebrow at her dismissively. She blushed from embarrassment and moved on. _She won't last long here._ Fenris thought sadly. A different girl brought their drinks for the rest of the night.

A bard made his way to the center of the room with his lute. It was not unheard of for bards to perform at Danarius' parties, but it was unusual. His master didn't have a taste for music or poems. Much too benign for him. The room became quiet as he began to pluck the strings of his instrument.

"I sing the tale of the Champion of Kirkwall, the bravest and fiercest woman in all of the Free Marches." The bard announced.

Fenris held back a snort. _This will not end well._ Danarius turned, directing his attention toward the bard, his eyebrows cocked in acute surprise. He folded his hands in his lap, ignoring for the moment his wine and overstuffed mushrooms.

He was young, perhaps in his early twenties with dark curly hair and unusually large brown eyes. His clever fingers twitched on his instrument, sending sweet, clipped notes to the entirety of the room. He smiled a very genuine, very out of place smile, at least partially due to the empty wine goblet he had set at his feet.

"The Arishok stood grey and dour, his royal welcome had gone sour, but there approached a blooming flower, the lovely Lady Hawke. The lovely Lady Hawke." There was an accent Fenris hadn't noticed before. A Starkhaven brogue perhaps. Certainly from somewhere in the Free Marches. Now it seemed obvious why the minstrel had chosen such an inappropriate subject to sing on, he knew nothing of Danarius, in fact he was probably just passing through Minrathous. Fenris pitied him.

"...the pirate wench did steal the tome, the viscount's son did meet his doom, the ox-men warred to destroy the home of the lovely Lady Hawke. The lovely Lady Hawke." Fenris grimaced at the forced rhymes and off-kilter stanzas. Even Hawke herself would hate it. He was no Varric, that's for sure. Danarius stood and the minstrel stopped playing.

"That is sufficient, lad." Danarius said. "You are excused."

If the boy had any sense he would have left immediately but he sat there in his chair for a moment, staring up at the magister.

"Contritium praecidit superbia." Danarius smiled, a little too sweetly. "Do you know what that means, boy?"

"No, messere." He said, not blinking.

"It means 'Pride comes before the fall.' If you didn't have the foresight to learn about your audience before coming here, then one would think you would at least be skilled." Danarius was stalking ever closer to the bard, slowly and deliberately. The boy furrowed his brow, wounded by the statement. Danarius continued. "You do not know who I am, therefore I will assume you also do not know what I am capable of. You wish to be worldly, to travel Thedas with this instrument of yours, is that not so?" The boy nodded. "Tell me, what do you know about Tevinter magisters?" He inclined his head, just a couple feet away from the minstrel.

"I ken they're very rich." The boy said with an accent undeniably from Starkhaven. "They dinna live in the circle like the mages in Starkhaven or Kirkwall."

The magister nodded. "Very true. What else?"

The boy thought for a moment. "They own slaves. That's all, messere."

"Hm. And what brings you to Minrathous?"

"I'm on my way to the Anderfels, messere." He said. "To play for the Grey Warden order in Weisshaupt. There's to be a great joining, over five hundred Wardens will be there. I am just passing through."

"Ah." He said. His curiosity sated. "How lucky we are to have had your company before your departure, then."

"As you say, messere. Can I leave now?"

A smile flashed over Danarius' features. "No." He said simply, letting his dagger drop from his sleeve into his hand then slicing his wrist.

The magister lifted his arms, now covered in blood above his head. The boy trembled almost imperceptibly. He touched his face and brought his hand in front of him to look at the smear of blood across his fingertips. His expression was more confused than frightened. Then he suddenly imploded, and every orifice in his body squirted blood.

The boy toppled over in his chair, and the guests all clapped heartily. A pair of slaves flitted over to the scene to remove the corpse and many more brought buckets of soapy water and cloths to clean the mess before it stained the exquisite Antivan rug. Danarius sat back down to his meal. Fenris did not even flinch.


	37. No News is Good News

**Anders**

He grabbed Hawke up in his arms without a single word. Nothing needed to be said. She was awake, and he loved her. She twined her fingers in his ponytail. and he kissed her neck again and again. She was salty with his tears. He pulled her face up to meet his in a long, languorous kiss. It had been too long since he'd done that, he'd forgotten how right it felt. He held her tight against his chest, tucking her in under his chin.

She seemed so fragile, so thin. He wondered how long it would be before she could even wield her axe, let alone fight. Kirkwall would be without its champion for some time still.

She put a hand on his chest and tossed her legs over the side of the bed. "Hawke your legs...!" Anders yelled, but it was too late. She pushed herself off the bed and immediately fell to the floor with a thump. "...are severely dystrophied." Anders frowned, bowing to lift her up in his arms. She laughed heartily, rubbing her bottom with her hand. Anders couldn't help but smile himself.

"How long was I out?" she asked.

"Three weeks." He dropped her back on the mattress.

"Maker." She sighed. "What did he do to me?"

"I'm not entirely sure. You lost a lot of blood and then you passed out. I healed you as best as I could, but you didn't wake up even after your condition stabilized." He realized he was being a terrible healer. "I should be examining you. Do you have any pain?" She shook her head. He placed two fingers on her wrist to take her pulse. After a moment he nodded and asked "What do you remember about the fight?"

She stared off in the distance for a moment, trying to remember. "I remember him laughing, and wanting to spill his blood so badly it hurt. Then I remember a red light and then I was in the bog."

"Follow my finger." He said, moving his pointer finger around her face. "Good. The bog?" He quirked an eyebrow.

"It was some kind of prison in my mind. I could hear you, could hear everything you said, but I couldn't escape, couldn't communicate with you."

"Some kind of foul blood magic, no doubt. Look straight ahead." He said. He made a small orb of light form on his fingertips and waved it in and out of her field of vision, checking for pupil reaction. "Good." He repeated.

He produced a small hammer from his pocket. "What was it like?" He thumped the hammer on her knee, she gave a weak little kick. He tested her elbows then her ankles and wrists, mentally noting the reactions.

"Dark." She said.

"Touch your nose and then touch my finger." He said, moving his hand around. She did without trouble. "That's it? Just dark?"

She shrugged. "It was a bog. There were lots of dead trees and grasses, fetid ponds, that's about it. The moon never moved from it's place in the sky. It was never daytime. Sometimes it rained or stormed, sometimes it didn't, but otherwise there was no change, no matter how far I ran. I thought I would never escape."

Anders proffered two fingers in front of her. "Squeeze my fingers as hard as you can." She tried. "Good. Other hand. Can you squeeze any harder than..? Much better. So how did you escape, then?"

"I willed myself to."

"Can you feel that?" He brushed the tip of his finger gently on her cheek. Her eyes closed at the gentleness of his touch and she nodded. He smiled, stroking her a few times more in this manner for the fun of it. Her mouth opened and she sighed. _Ah. The perks of being your lover's physician._ "How did you do that?" He asked quietly.

Her eyes snapped open again. "I visualized myself waking up. It started a storm so I thought it must be working. Then I heard you talking to me. I can't remember what you said, but it drew me up into the storm and then I woke up."

Anders furrowed his brow. "Odd. I've never heard of such a thing before in all my life. I can only assume it was some kind of devious magic Danarius possessed. Your brain seems to be working just fine."

"That's a relief." Hawke chuckled.

"For us both." Anders smiled. He sat back down on the bed and hugged her tightly. "You really had me scared, love."

"You worry too much. It's going to take more than a blighter like him to decommission this champion. I'm much too stubborn to die that way."

"Truly." He laughed. "Anyone else and I might have given up by now."

"So. Did we win?" She asked, seriously.

Anders eyes shot up at her in surprise. "You have your life, I'd call that a victory. Wouldn't you?"

"You know what I meant. Is Danarius dead or not?" She asked.

He reached out to take her hand. "No, my love. We lost."

She recoiled in horror. "Then where is he?"

"Back in Minrathous, I assume."

She thought for a moment, then remembered wondering why she couldn't hear Fenris' voice in the bog. She put two and two together and her eyes widened. "And just how much did we lose?"

He dropped his gaze to the blankets. He hadn't expected her to piece everything together so quickly. He opened his mouth as if to speak and closed it again, choosing his words carefully.

"Anders, where is Fenris?"

Anders reached out to hold her. She waved him away.

"Tell me."

"He's gone." Anders said, closing his eyes.

"Maker, you let him take Fenris?" He could hear her voice caught in her throat. "You're trying to tell me that somewhere in Minrathous _my friend_ is being tortured and raped by that monster? This is too much. We have to rescue him." Her fingers knitted into her hair. "I need to start training. Now! As soon as I am able we leave for Tevinter. I'll need your magic..."

He remembered his promise to the elf. He didn't want to say the next part, but losing her again would be even worse. He knew if there was even a ghost of a chance he could be rescued, she would never give up. He looked into her eyes, refusing to flinch when she needed him so badly. "Hawke, Fenris is dead."

She cried in earnest now. "No. You're lying." For a split second he mistook her denial for awareness.

"He died with your name on his lips. He wanted me to tell you that he loved you." It wasn't any easier to say the second time.

Whatever he expected her to do, he hadn't expected her to strike him, but she did just the same. She hit him with all her might which wasn't much after being bedridden for weeks. She flew into a blind rage pummeling him with flimsy blows. She swung at him several more times without making contact. He grabbed her wrists in both hands and pulled her into his chest. She let out a high-pitched cry into his shoulder. He stroked her hair.

"Let it out." He whispered.

She cried for almost an hour before she was still. His mantle was thoroughly soaked through, but he didn't care. All he wanted was for Hawke to be whole again, and he knew that would only take time and tears, he was willing to endure both for her sake. He kissed her forehead.

"Where is he?" She asked when she finally stopped crying.

Anders knew what she meant, but he hadn't been prepared for such a question. He searched for any logical answer. After a long pause he said "Danarius took his body back to Tevinter, to repossess the lyrium from his remains."

She gasped. He could have kicked himself for giving such a clinical and detached answer. He had just wanted the answer to be believable, and it was, but he'd forgotten how difficult it would be to hear. He wished he could take it back. Instead, he reached into his pocket and pulled out the red scarf, tying it gently around her wrist, knowing exactly what it meant to her, to Fenris. She stared at him, tears forming in her eyes once again.

"Anders." She whispered, a touch of disbelief in her voice.

"It's alright." He said, feeling anything but. He looked away. She placed her hand on his chin, pulling his face up to look at her. Among all the other things she showed in those eyes, there was also gratitude.

She shuddered out a sigh. "What do I do now?"

Anders ran his fingers through her hair. "I can't answer that for you. I can only promise to be there with you every step of the way." He kissed her cheek.

She withdrew. "Don't make that promise."

He bowed his head, nodding. "I know I haven't been there for you this past year. I have no right to ask you this, but you've always given me better than I deserve. Let me make it up to you. I can't promise you a perfect life, I can't even promise you safety, all I can do is pledge my heart to you for the rest of my days. Will that suffice?"

Hawke drew her eyebrows together, looking pained by the question. She didn't look at him. "It will."

He knew it was at most a half-truth, but he accepted it nonetheless. He laid down next to her, pulling her into his chest and drawing the covers over their bodies. Only a couple hours awake and she already seemed exhausted. He himself hadn't slept a full night in weeks.

Tomorrow would be hectic. There would be rehabilitation, her other companions would want to see her and of course, there would be more tears. She would need him more than ever. His plans for Justice would have to be postponed a while longer.


	38. Woebegone

**Hawke**

_Fenris is dead. _The words echoed in her mind like some macabre song. She swam through the words, through images of Anders' face staring back at her mournfully.

Unbidden she was able to find a thousand reasons to blame herself. She should have forbid him from going, he was too close. She should have prepared first, should have hired an army of her own. She shouldn't have been so careless. Shouldn't have been so cocky. Shouldn't have let her anger take control of her. She shouldn't have been so reckless as to attack Danarius on her own. Maybe if she hadn't passed out she would have been able to protect him. Now he was gone. He would never know how much he meant to her.

She blinked away the tears and looked around her. She was back in the bog again. She sighed knowing she didn't have enough willpower to get herself out this time. She found the solitude strangely comforting. _So this is what it feels like to give up._ Hawke thought. She'd always wondered.

Something was different, though. Something was off this time. She'd spent enough time in the bog that she could sense it.

A hand rested gently on her shoulder. She thought it must be someone in the real world caressing her again, more phantom hands to cause her undue distress, but she looked over and saw an actual hand. A tan hand with lyrium lines on it.

"Fenris!" She shouted, turning. "Fenris, you're here!" She threw her arms around him, and a single tear fell from her eye.

He stroked her cheek. "You must tell her that I am dead."

"It's me, Fenris. I know already. It's all my fault. I'm so sorry I failed you."

"No!" He shouted. His mouth began to move but his words were too quiet to hear, she could only catch a few words. "beg...Minrathous."

"Oh. I see." she said, understanding what was happening. It wasn't really Fenris. It was just a memory she had of hearing his voice. She turned away.

He turned her around again to face him and looked deeply into her eyes. "Valea adore ma." He whispered, leaving a gentle kiss on her lips.

"I don't know what that means, you know that." She knew there was no point in talking to him, he couldn't hear her. He was just a cruel trick of her mind. But such a seductive farce. She put her arms around him.

"I'll avenge you." She whispered. He gave her an agonized half smile, but said nothing. "Danarius will pay for what he did."

She wondered how long he would linger here, a ghost to haunt her in her own private prison. As if in answer, he slowly began to dissipate in front of her, until he was gone completely, leaving her alone once again. She fell to her knees.

She woke with a start. So it hadn't been the bog, just a dream. She sat up, trying to make sense of it all, rubbing her eyes with the heels of her hands. Anders awoke, disturbed by her sudden movement.

"Is everything alright?" he asked groggily.

"No." she replied.

He sat up next to her and pulled her into his arms. "Do you want to talk about it?"

She shook her head. A tear slipped down the bridge of her nose onto his bare chest and trickled down his abdomen. She wiped it away with her finger. He closed his eyes at her touch, letting out a sigh.

"What's wrong?"

"I love you." he said breathlessly. "Have I told you that lately?"

"I can't remember. Why?"

He turned on his side, leaning on his elbow. "Let me answer that question with a question. I'm a healer, Hawke. Do you know what that means?"

"Tell me."

"It means that all I ever see is pain. No one needs me unless they are dying or ill or hurting in some form. That's fine. I want to help. When I see someone in pain I need to fix them. It weighs heavy on my heart if I don't. That's partially why I've taken up my cause."

"I don't understand..."

"Let me finish." He interrupted. "So it never mattered to me that people only cared about what I could do for them, that was the path I had chosen and I accepted it. Then I met you, and I knew you were different. You cared about what I thought. You didn't come to me just to be fixed. It's not that you didn't have your own sorrows, you had lost Carver and your home, suddenly the world was on your shoulders, but you never asked me to take that burden from you. You asked me to be your friend, instead. You never came to me when your mother died. Rarely asked me for anything, and when you did, you always returned the favor ten-fold. Now you are trying to face this alone and you shouldn't. You don't have to. You are so strong, love. You are cowed by your struggles and you can't even see it because you've carried them for so long, so far. When I see you like this it hurts me. I love you and I want to help. Let me help you."

She stared at him, unable to speak for a moment. After a long and weighty silence she said "What can you do?"

"Many things. For right now, I can listen." Anders replied.

She sighed. "What is there to talk about? Fenris is dead, worse, the man who enslaved, tortured and murdered him is still alive. Likely desecrating his corpse and pissing into a solid gold chamber-pot. I couldn't protect him because of my own stupidity. It might as well have been me who killed him."

Anders grasped her hand in his. "You did everything you could, love."

"I lost control. He warned me, but I was too bloody cocky, too angry, too proud. Now he's gone and I couldn't save him."

"We never stood a chance. There was no way you could have known that. We were outnumbered and outmatched, and yet you stood and fought for what was right anyway, when many would have turned and ran. Fenris didn't blame you for what happened, you shouldn't either."

She slid into his arms. He stroked her shoulder and pressed a kiss on top of her head.

"I don't know if I can accept that." She said.

"In time you may." He said, barely louder than a whisper. "Just know that you are the only one who feels that way. We all trust you and your abilities implicitly, every last one of us. I would follow you into the void without any reservations."

"That's what scares me. What if I can't protect you?"

He ran a lazy finger up and down her upper arm. "If you can't then no one can. There is not a single man or woman in Thedas who could have stopped what happened from happening. It was inevitable."

"He loved me." She said, not knowing why.

"Yes." Anders said quietly. "You seem to have that effect on people. I can attest to that."

"He never told me."

"I know."


	39. Antivan Fly

**Fenris**

The night had gone exactly as he imagined. Danarius was yelling at some slave girl for forgetting to bring the Antivan fly. An eager young apprentice named Aurelius had been sorely disappointed by the oversight, much to Fenris' amusement.

The girl ran as fast as she could to correct her mistake and avoid the wrath of the magister. Danarius slumped into an armchair naked, looking distraught.

"What are you looking at?" Danarius snapped at a virile man in the throes of passion with a lanky slave boy. It was all Fenris could do not to smile. Then he remembered where he was, and it wasn't such a struggle anymore.

When the girl finally came back with the fly, panting and gasping, the apprentice as well as most everyone else in the room were already spent and waiting for a second wind. A vein in Danarius' forehead jumped and looked like it was about to burst.

It was several more hours before Fenris was allowed to return to his tattered cot in the slave chambers. The sun was making it's way slowly up the horizon. He guessed he might have four hours at most to sleep.

He thumped back on the bed and began worrying at a tear in the mattress that had been there for decades. He knew, because it was the same mattress he had slept on ten years previous, and it had been torn before he ever got it. No one had bothered to patch it. He wasn't surprised.

He was exhausted, but the more he tried to relax, the more restless he became. Hawke's face haunted him. Sometimes he imagined that he would wake up back in the mansion. She would be down in the foyer with a new book for him to read, or fanning out apple slices on a plate in the kitchen. It was a comforting thought while it lasted.

He had barely drifted off to sleep when he heard a shuffling beside his bed. His eyes snapped open. He could see someone's shadow on the wall, leaning over him. It was impossible to tell in the darkness whether it belonged to his master or another slave, man or woman, adult or child. Whoever it was, they thought he was still asleep. If it was anyone else, they'd probably be right, but Fenris had spent so many paranoid years hiding from hunters, that his mind was keenly aware of sounds around him, even when he was in deep sleep.

The figure moved closer until he could hear them breathing next to his face. He saw the shadow of a hand extending toward him, almost pensively, as if to touch him. He laid as still as possible, trying to control his breathing and his heartbeat. They seemed to think better of it, then withdrew the hand and left as quietly as they'd come.

Fenris sat up in bed. He buried his face in his hands. There was no way he'd be able to get to sleep now. He briefly considered following after his visitor, but decided against it. They'd be back. He was sure of it.


	40. Crazy On You

**This is the chapter I've been trying to speed you all toward. It's extremely important to the plot. I don't know how I feel about the actual execution of the event, however, so it might get rewritten in the future. What do you think? Your reviews (as well as your favorites and your follows, of course), as always, are greatly appreciated.**

**Also, if you would like to see anything happen in this story, let me know. Most of it is written out already, I'm nearing the final few chapters on my end, but I can always add something as long as it isn't too pivotal. :)**

**Hawke**

Rehabilitation was exhausting. Anders was harder and tougher on her than she ever imagined he could be. He was getting meaner every day, but she was glad of it. It helped release some of her frustration, and the sooner she was able to fight, the sooner she'd be able to visit vengeance upon Danarius.

"Mind your stance, damn you." Anders snapped.

"I'm trying."

"If you don't watch your posture you'll strain yourself. Then you'll be out of service for another three days."

She leaned over to catch some choking breaths, grabbing her stomach. "It still hurts."

He frowned. "Deal with it. Aveline has been hounding me every day this week to send you for training, and I can't. How can you fight a guard captain if you can't even defeat me? The city needs it's champion, and right now you can't run a mile without collapsing on the ground."

"I can too." She huffed.

"Then prove it." He smirked. "Because I'm done carrying you around Kirkwall like an infant."

"Shut up." She glared at him. She knew he was trying to get under her skin, and it was working. She poised herself for attack, ignoring the pain in her stomach.

"Did I hit a nerve? Are you going to hurt me? Go ahead. I might even like it."

"I suspect your corpse wouldn't have much of an opinion one way or the other." She growled, charging at him. He danced out of the way.

"Big talk for someone who can't even melee a mage." He said ducking behind her and putting her in a chokehold.

She elbowed him in the stomach. "Watch it, Anders." She said. She turned and tried to kick him in the throat. Anders dodged carefully, then kicked her feet out from under her.

"Aw. Did I hurt your feelings? What a sad, pathetic thing the once great Hawke has become. A sniveling, weakling pretender. I pity you."

"I'm warning you..." She stood up and dusted herself off.

"Why don't you just go back to sleep for another month or so. Or better yet, find yourself a nice nobleman and retire. Settle down. Push out some fat little children."

"Void take you, if you don't shut your blighted mouth..."

"I can see the happy family now. Two boys and a girl. You can name them after your biggest failures. Carver, Leandra and little Fenris." Then he turned his back on her.

Big mistake.

Hawke let out a furious shout. She ran toward him, pushing him to ground and turning him towards her. She was like a woman possessed. She saw Danarius' face superimposed on his body. She began clobbering him with her fists, screaming with anger.

"Hawke!" He shouted, trying to block her blows. "That's enough!"

She couldn't hear him. The only thing she could hear was the imagined magister's snicker. She grabbed him by the throat and began beating his head against the ground.

"Stop Hawke! I didn't mean it!" He choked. "Hawke, it's me, Anders!"

It still didn't register. She put one hand on either side of his head to break his neck. She would have, too if it hadn't been for Aveline stepping in at that exact moment and pulling her off him.

"Hawke, what's the matter with you?" she yelled.

Hawke ignored her, scrambling to get back at Anders to finish the job.

"Get a hold of yourself!" Aveline yelled, shaking her.

Hawked grunted. The color returned to her surroundings.

Anders' eyes flashed bright blue for just a second. He blinked it away, then rubbed his temples in slow circles.

"Andraste's silky bush, Aveline. I could kiss you for your timing." Anders said. "You saved my life."

"What in the Maker's name were you doing, Hawke?" She asked, ignoring him.

Hawke shook her head. "W-What?"

"You nearly killed Anders!"

She turned toward him, confused. "I...what?"

"It was my fault. I egged her on. I might have gone a bit too far." Anders said, rubbing a black eye. "I didn't think she'd turn into a bloody Archdemon."

"That's no excuse."

"You might not be saying that if you heard some of what I said."

"Anders?" She asked. She fell to the ground, dropping her head into her hands. "Oh Maker, what have I done?"

He threw his head back laughing and sat down beside her. "No less than what I deserved."

"I would have killed you. If Aveline hadn't...What if I'd..."

"But you didn't." He interrupted, still smiling.

"You're in a good mood for someone who was just snatched from the claws of death." Aveline said sternly.

"A newly found appreciation for life, I guess. Either that or I'm a bit turned-on. I can't tell." He said, grinning. "Anyway, the moral of the story is, don't piss off Hawke, she's truly a force to be reckoned with. If she could learn to channel that anger and use it against, you know, bad guys, she'd be truly unstoppable."

"Or she'd go on a murdering rampage and we'll have to strap her to a table with iron manacles to keep her from eating the corpses of her victims."

"Kinky." He said raising an eyebrow.

Hawke glanced at Anders. He was acting positively silly. She'd never seen him like this before.

"What was that, anyway?" Aveline asked, turning toward Hawke.

"I don't know. It's like a demon entered my body. All I could feel was rage and hatred."

"I think I know what happened." Anders said. "Back in Vigil's Keep I met a dwarf named Oghren, nasty little bugger. A truly vile, disgusting man. I was nearly in love. Anyway, he told me he was a berserker. He could harness his anger and turn into a mindless killing machine. He was truly fearsome on the battlefield. Even the darkspawn avoided him and his unholy fury. But once he got started he couldn't stop until every enemy was dead, or he was knocked unconscious. Every hit he took seemed to make him madder and more dangerous. I think our Hawke might have unintentionally tapped into this ability."

"Wait. You knew about this all along, didn't you? You were trying to make me go on a rampage?"

"I was trying to make you mad so you'd work harder to spite me, not kill me and mount my head on a pike."

"So you're completely innocent and I'm just a...a barbarian?"

"Not the word I would use, love. I'm never completely innocent. In fact, I can be quite incorrigible when I want to be." Anders said winking at her.

"You're an ass."

"You love it." He said.

"Stop acting like a child."

"Stop acting like a child." He mimicked. "You're no fun, you know that?"

"Skirt-wearing, fancy-fingered, bejeweled templar butt-boy." She muttered. "Go suck on Meredith's giant engorged cock."

"Enough!" Aveline yelled. "Or do we need another repeat of what just happened? You're acting like bleeding idiots."

"He started it."

"What in the Maker's name is wrong with you two? One minute you're trying to murder one another and the next you're practically flirting. This isn't normal even for you two."

"Did you just say butt-boy?" Anders grinned. Hawke snickered. "Remind me; why haven't I married you, yet?"

"Back to the subject at hand." Aveline glared at them. "Can she learn to use it safely and to her advantage?"

"With proper training, certainly, but without it? Your guess is as good as mine. It seems a high risk to take considering what happened a moment ago, yes?"

"Do I get any say in the matter? I did just try to kill my lover in a fit of unbridled fury. I'd rather not ever do that again."

"That's why you must be trained. Right now you're a walking powder keg. This isn't up for discussion Hawke." Aveline said firmly. "Do you know where we can find this dwarf friend of yours, Anders?"

Anders sighed. "Sadly Oghren died defending the Keep from the darkspawn horde. I believe he passed that information on to the Warden-Commander, but she hasn't been seen in nearly a decade. Somewhere off with her lover, that bastard prince...oh what was his name? Didn't we see him during the Qunari attack?"

"Alistair." Hawke offered.

"Right. Well, no matter. They're off doing Grey Warden things, no doubt. Being vigilant and all that. Too busy and unavailable to bother tracking them down."

"Then what can we do? I shudder to think what might happen when I'm not around to rescue your sorry hide, Anders. I'd hate to see you finally get what's coming to you."

Anders glowered at her. "I'm humbled by your concern, Aveline. Anyway, maybe Varric might know someone. Berserking is primarily a dwarven skill, if I recall correctly."

"He isn't very dwarf-like, for a dwarf." Hawke said.

"Why are my ears burning?" Varric said smoothly, strolling into the room.

"Just the man I was looking for." Anders smiled.

"It's nice to know I'm needed. What can I do for you, Blondie?"

"Do you know any berserkers?" Anders asked.

"Do I know any what now?"

"Berserkers. They're a class of warriors, they go into a frenzy and kill everything. Very mean. No fun at parties." Hawke frowned.

Varric scratched his chin. "No one specific comes to mind. Why do you ask?"

"Because I don't like Hawke when she's angry." Anders said, pointing to his black eye.

"Ouch. Say no more. I'll ask around." Varric waved his hands in acquiescence.

"Quickly, if you please. There are lots of pointy objects in this house." Anders said pointing to various sword racks on the walls.

"I'd worry about your own pointy objects, if I were you, but by all means, keep poking me."

"Hawke..." Aveline started.

"Oh, I'll poke you alright." Anders smirked, thrusting in her direction.

"Anders..."

She stuck her tongue out at him. He pretended to fondle himself vigorously.

"Maker Anders, do you have a deathwish?" Aveline rolled her eyes.

"She loves it." He said. "Look at her, she's eating it up." He came up behind her, putting his arms around her waist and kissing her neck. She closed her eyes. Damn it, he was right. She liked what nearly dying did to Anders' personality. Maybe she should try to kill him more often.

Aveline sighed. "Anders try not to die before Varric can find someone. Hawke, don't kill anyone important. Like our healer. Don't beat him senseless either, we have rules about domestic abuse in this city, and I've got enough on my plate already."

"Don't worry. She'll be too busy screaming my name." He said, pressing himself against her ass.

"I don't want to know." Aveline said, walking toward the door.

"I'm with her." Varric said, following quickly behind her. "Oh, I almost forgot. We all pitched in and bought you this as a 'congratulations on not dying' present. Hope you like it." He tossed her a bottle of Orlesian wine. "It's not as good as the swill you get at the Hanged Man, but it's the thought that counts." He winked.

"Thanks Varric." She said. He nodded and left.

The door slammed shut behind them. Anders immediately began pawing at the clasps of her armor.

"Finally." He chuckled. "Meredith's giant engorged cock? I'm so telling her you said that." He breathed in deeply near her ear sending a jolt of electricity up her spine.

_I'm enjoying this._ She thought with some surprise, perhaps because for the first time in weeks she wasn't crying about Fenris.

She was beginning to think maybe she could actually go through with it, being with Anders again, when a wayward finger reminded her of that night, the night she and Fenris...

She frowned. "Anders, stop."

"Mm, make me." he whispered, tracing the ridge of her ear with the point of his tongue.

"I-I'm not ready." She sniffed, threatening to cry.

"Oh." He said, letting go of her. "Oh." He repeated. "Hawke, forgive me. I thought..."

She hung her head, shuffling toward the bed and falling down onto it with a thud. "There's nothing to forgive. I'm an idiot."

"No you're not. You don't have to do anything you don't want to." He said, sitting down next to her.

"Of course I want to. Only...I..."

"I understand, love. It's just that today was the first day I've seen you feel anything but sadness. You smiled at me. I hoped...I thought maybe you were moving on. I'm yours when you want me, however long that takes. Just say the word. In fact, you don't even need to say anything, just grope. Or start undressing me. Or start undressing yourself. Or give me one of those saucy looks of yours." Anders sighed. "Maker, it doesn't take much, does it?"

"Would it be terribly cruel of me to ask you to just hold me for a while?"

Anders beamed. "A slow torture, to be sure, but I'll manage somehow." He laid back, encircling her with his arms and kissing her gently on her forehead.

"I'm sorry for saying those things earlier. I didn't mean it. Any of it. As soon as I said it, I knew I'd gone too far. It was never my intention to hurt you."

"Don't."

"I just needed you to know that."


	41. Robes of Nevarran Cotton

**Anders**

Something was different. He'd noticed it immediately after Aveline had pulled Hawke off of him. Suddenly there were no other voices in his head. He knew Justice was still there, he could feel him, but something about the attack had pacified him. For how long still remained to be seen, but he didn't intend on interrupting Justice's vacation to find out. It felt _wonderful_.

He'd forgotten what it was like to laugh and joke without the edge of bitterness and the constant feeling of persecution and despair. It was as if a tremendous weight had been lifted from his shoulders. He felt like his old self again, a man Anders had thought dead and gone years ago.

Hawke was sleeping. He reached down and grasped her hand, noticing that her knuckles were cut and bruised. _From my face._ He snorted, a little too proud of himself. He ran his thumb along them, healing her with his touch, then turned her hand over and pressed a kiss into her palm. She didn't need either, but he did it anyway, just because he knew she wouldn't allow it if she were awake.

"Take that, mighty Champion." He whispered.

Hawke yawned and turned away from him. "You'll rebel to anything, won't you?" She said groggily. He chuckled, pulling her closer and burying his face in her neck. She laced her fingers through his in approval.

"So punish me, then."

"Too lazy, too comfy." She settled in against his chest.

"It's the robes isn't it? All women say they want a brave warrior, but no one can resist the plush raiment of a well-dressed mage." He rubbed his sleeve against her cheek. "Nevarran cotton, my love. Four hundred thread count. Custom made for yours truly. Cost me a small fortune, but it was worth every penny. Don't you agree?"

"Sop...making...mouth-words."

He nuzzled her again, grinning from ear-to-ear as he took in the scent of her. The moment was perfect and pure, such a rare and precious thing for him. He knew it was too much to hope for that she would wake up happy, but he'd always been one to have high aspirations.

It was another week before they heard back from Varric. Anders was brushing Hawke's hair in their room when Merrill came crashing through the door. They both jumped. Hawke knocked the hairbrush straight out of his hands, under the vanity.

"I-I'm sorry, I didn't mean to disturb you," She said, panting. " Hawke, please come quickly. Varric sent me, he says it's urgent."

"What does he need?"

"I don't know, exactly. There was a woman, a dwarf woman. She looked very cross and she kept poking him. I don't think he liked it very much. Of course he didn't, who likes being poked?"

"Where is he?"

"Oh, right. I almost forgot. He's at the Foundry. He says to wear your gear. Like you'd ever leave your home without it."

"It had to be the Foundry, didn't it? Blast him." She frowned. "Thank you, Merrill. Will you be coming along?"

"No, I don't like the Foundry. It's much too rusty for my likes. I think I'll go for a stroll."

"Alright. Well, have fun then."

"Oh, I will! I always do. Sometimes just leaving Lowtown feels like an adventure."

"Stay out of trouble." She said curtly, trying to end the conversation.

"Of course, lethallan. I wouldn't want to burden you."

"See you later."

"Hope I see you soon. I get so lonely in the alienage by myself. You'll come see me soon, won't you?"

"Later this week, I think. Anders will come too. You're always welcome to join us at the Hanged Man most evenings, but really Merrill, I need to get ready. Goodbye."

She blushed, then nodded and left.

"Does everyone we know have a key to the estate?"

"All except Isabela. I don't want to know what she'd do if she walked in on us during a private moment. Why? Will I regret it?" She asked, pulling on her hauberk.

"Oh yes. If it's the last thing I do." Anders smirked, running a lazy finger along the hairline at the base of her neck sensually.

"What did I say to set you off this time?"

"You're worried Isabela is going to walk in on us being intimate. Logically, that implies there's a chance something intimate might happen between us."

"And that's enough for you?" She asked, stepping into her greaves.

"I have a very vivid imagination."

"So it seems." She chuckled.

He pulled her hair back to whisper in her ear. "Want me to tell you what I'm doing to you in my mind right this very moment?"

She sighed. "Maybe later. I need to go see what Varric wants."

Anders pulled away, plopping down on the bed. This was exhausting, no, agonizing. Virtually every ounce of energy he used to spend maintaining control of himself against Justice was now spent controlling himself around Hawke. He looked up at her mournfully. The afternoon sunlight trickling through the windows was reflecting off her armor, surrounding her with warm light, like a halo. She looked ethereally beautiful, like Andraste herself, radiating power and beauty. He'd never wanted anyone so badly in his life.

It seemed like some cruel jape by the Maker. He was finally able to feel happy again, and Hawke was hurt and broken in a way he couldn't mend. The only thing he had to offer was his love, and she didn't seem to want or need that.

"I didn't say no! Please don't look at me like that. We can talk about it later." She stood in front of him, placing her hands on his shoulders. He rested his forehead on her torso. "Are you alright?"

"Oh yeah, I've been taking care of myself for years. I'm actually quite good at it. Why? Do you want to watch?"

She rolled her eyes. "You know what I mean."

"Stop troubling yourself, love. I'm fine as long as you're with me. It's you I'm worried about. Anyway, let's not keep Varric waiting. I don't need to be on Bianca's bad side."

Anders followed closely behind Hawke as they stepped into the Foundry, holding her hand in his. He could feel her pulse racing beneath her skin. This was where it had happened. This is where Quentin killed Leandra. He silently cursed Varric for bringing her back to this place. He could still sense the taint of blood magic in the very walls of this place. He could smell blood and death.

Luckily they didn't have to go too far into the building before they found Varric.

"...you merchant princes are all alike. You think you're entitled to everyone else's time and then when they complain you try and smooth-talk your way out. Spare me, Tethras."

"Hawke will come." Varric said.

"He's got five minutes."

"That's very generous, but we don't need it." Anders said.

The dwarf woman turned toward him and immediately began fuming. She turned back to Varric, pointing at Anders. "Do you have rocks for brains? I can't train this squishy little nuglet to berserk."

"Who Blondie? Nah, he's our healer. _That's_ Hawke." He said, Hawke stepped from the shadows. "Hawke, this is Britta. Britta, Hawke."

Britta relaxed a little. She wasn't what Anders had imagined. Her tattoo that signified her lack of caste took up most of the right side of her face, and a large serpentine scar went from the center of her forehead to her left ear. Her nose looked like it had been broken several times. Her black hair was braided into long elaborate pigtails that extended all the way to her knees.

She circled Hawke, looking her up and down in appraisal. "What makes you want to become a berserker?"

Hawke frowned. "Nothing. I don't want to be one, but I am one evidently. I need to learn how to control it so I don't kill my friends."

Britta raised an eyebrow. "I've heard of that. It's rare enough when it happens to a dwarf, but for a human? Unheard of."

"Hawke is a rare sort of human. Full of surprises." Anders smiled.

Britta gave him a look of annoyance. "That walking pillow's your healer, huh?" Hawke nodded.

"Hey!" Anders objected.

"Great. If he's any good, you'll want to keep him happy and away from the templars. Feeling no pain in battle can be both a blessing and a curse. You're going to break a lot of bones.

"So how long will this training take?"

"Ten minutes at most." Hawke's eyes widened. Britta chuckled. "It's very simple, and we can't practice here because, you know, someone will die if we do. It won't be me. You need the healer and I assume you want to keep this one around." She pointed to Varric.

Hawke seemed to be eyeing a dried blood spatter on the wall. "Fine by me. I'd like to be out of here as soon as possible."

"Aye. No arguments here."


	42. An Uninvited Guest

**Fenris**

Danarius stayed in bed almost all day, probably due in equal parts to a nasty hangover and utter humiliation. Fenris was thankful for it, considering his lack of sleep. The curtains were drawn tight, making the room seem almost peaceful despite the things he'd had to endure here.

These days Danarius didn't seem to have much of an appetite for that particular brand of abuse. He recalled the tantrum the magister had caused at his party. _Some things even blood magic can't fix. _Fenris thought, smiling. If it could, Danarius wouldn't have thought twice about bleeding someone dry to avoid the embarrassment of not being able to _perform_ at his own party. Ah, but that's what expensive imported aphrodisiacs were for.

When his master finally rose from his bed, he complained of stomach problems and spent another hour in the restroom. Fenris stood guard, trying not to laugh at the sounds of painful exertion coming through the door. There had been plenty of spicy Rivaini dishes at the party. Danarius had always been fond of their cuisine, but in his old age, his stomach could no longer handle it. Still, he had soldiered through a few plates to spite himself. He was clearly regretting it now.

The rest of the day was just as uneventful, which was always fine for Fenris. Less work. Less pretending. More time to think. He usually thought about Hawke. He liked to think about her, she was a welcome distraction from the endless tedium of being a bodyguard, but today he was having difficulty thinking about anything but his late night visitor.

It certainly wasn't Danarius. If the magister wanted to interrupt his sleep, he wouldn't have gone through the trouble of being secretive about it. No need. It wasn't a guest either. At that point of the night all the guests had already left, and even if they didn't, he doubted anyone would know or care where the slave quarters was, let alone where he slept. That left only another slave, but why would a slave risk their life to come and see him asleep in his bed? It was an uncomfortable thought, and it made no sense.

It was possible that there were other slaves who were jealous of Fenris' status as the magister's favorite. There were perks to having the master's favor, as much as Fenris was loath to admit. His tiny room, for instance, offered him a type of privacy such that no other slave in the mansion could ever even hope for. He was also allowed to accompany Danarius whenever he had business outside the city. There were some slaves who'd never left the mansion since they'd come. He couldn't even imagine that.

He didn't talk to the other slaves much more than was required, whenever Danarius asked him to give an order, or if they asked him a question. When he did he always kept it succinct. His master didn't like slaves building rapport with each other. He felt it would only lead to treachery. Besides, slaves were expected to be busy, there was no time for idle chit-chat. Those brief encounters he'd had with the other slaves were pleasant enough, he hadn't sensed any particular malice in their voices or body-language. If they hated him for being the magister's pet, he was unaware. He'd never really cared before now. He didn't even know most of their names.

"You seem rather distracted today, Fenris." The magister said, changing into his nightgown.

Fenris nodded. It wasn't really a question.

"What is it, then?" Danarius asked.

"Only your well-being, master. You seem ill today."

"Ah." Danarius chuckled. "Just what I ate. Run along, now. I have plans for tomorrow morning."

_That's never good._ Fenris thought as he navigated the corridors to the slave quarters to his tiny room.

He closed the door behind him, removing his breastplate and laying it at the foot of his cot, then the gauntlets. He didn't feel safe removing his jerkin or his leggings, not when there was someone visiting him when they thought he was sleeping. He wrapped himself in his moth-eaten blanket and tried to find a comfortable position on the bed, but it was no use. He stared up at the ceiling, almost wishing the uninvited guest would return tonight so he could put this thing to rest.

Hours went by and the only thing that changed was the shadows on the walls from the moonlight outside the tiny window. It was barred shut so Fenris wouldn't entertain ideas of escape, not that he could. Minrathous streets were full of the Archon's centurions at night, all of them more than willing to return a slave for the right coin. If Fenris had the desire to leave, getting out of the mansion was the least of his worries.

The hinges of the door squeaked, and the light in the room increased ever so slightly. A shadow passed through it and Fenris could feel his heart beating out of his chest. He closed his eyes.

Slowly the figure made it's way toward the bed. Fenris peeked through his eyelashes. _A woman! What woman?_ He wondered. It was too dark to tell.

The woman knelt beside the cot, and again she reached out her hand as if to touch him. He fought to control his racing heart, to slow his thoughts. This time she let the tips of her fingers graze over the lyrium brands on his left upper arm. She gave a little gasp. She moved her hand toward the markings on his chin.

Instinct took over and Fenris grabbed her hand. The room lit up, blue with the alien glow of his markings. He stood, towering above the intruder and snarling.

"Who are you? What do you want?" He barked.

The woman began to tremble, then fell to the floor, burying her face in her hands. "Please, don't hurt me. I only wanted to see." She whimpered. Her voice sounded familiar.

Fenris threw her hand away, as if it offended him. "Come to gawk at the monster, have you? Go on. Get your fill before I rip your heart from your chest." The light pulsed with each heaving breath he took.

The woman sobbed. "No! Not at all! It's just...your markings are so beautiful. I wanted only to get a better look. I'm sorry, I promise..."

His eyes widened, the blue light dimmed around them. "You risked your life to see my markings because you thought they were pretty?"

She nodded into her hands. "I'm so sorry for disturbing you. I won't come back, I promise."

"Stand." He ordered. She obliged, wiping the tears from her eyes and sniffing loudly. "Who are you?"

But before he finished asking he caught a glimpse of her face. The dimpled youth from the party. Things were starting to make sense now. "You." He said. She bowed low, her brown hair tumbling over her shoulder and sweeping across the floor.

"The magister calls me Cinaide. I think it's a type of flower."

Fenris sighed, sitting down on the edge of the bed, pulling at his hair. "You must leave before someone sees you."

She knelt before him, reaching out to touch his face. He jerked his head away. She looked at the floor. "Do you not find me pleasing?"

"I-What?" He asked, surprised.

"I thought you might like some company tonight. You always look so sad."

Fenris tried not to laugh at the absurdity of the situation. He wondered what Hawke would say if she was here. "I belong to another."

"We both do. And yet I'm still a virgin." She said, obviously not catching his meaning.

Fenris snorted. "Consider yourself lucky. Danarius...the magister is not a gentle lover."

She seemed to ignore the comment. "I've always wondered what it was like to be with a man, a handsome man like you." She became very quiet for a moment. "I've never even been kissed. I've been watching you. I think I might be in love with you."

He laughed in earnest now. "This is unreal."

"Please, I've never seen someone so beautiful in all of my life."

Fenris sighed. "Do you know what my markings are, Cinaide?" She shook her head. He lifted his arms, displaying the stark white tendrils that curled around his biceps. "The magister branded raw lyrium into my flesh. It was the most painful thing I've ever experienced, and it caused me to forget my entire past. They still hurt. What you call beautiful, I call torment."

She gasped. "I...I didn't know. I'm so sorry."

He nodded. "Go back to bed, before your absence is noticed."

"I could try to make it better." She offered.

"No. Goodnight." He said curtly, suddenly feeling irritated.

"Goodnight, Fenris." She whispered, leaving. As she reached the door, she turned back to look at him. "She must have been very special to you."

"She was."


	43. Somewhere Beyond the Sea

**Warning: Gory chapter. Not for those with weak stomachs. **

**Hawke**

Britta had been right, it took her no more than ten minutes to explain, and apparently that had been the extended version. It was straightforward enough. The only thing she worried about was the actual application of the lesson, and she would find out soon enough if it would be a problem.

They made their way toward the docks, the cool breeze coming off the ocean sent a chill up her spine. She shivered. Anders noticed, taking his coat off and wrapping it around her. She tried to refuse but he gave her a pointed look. "How determined are you to end up in my clinic with a fever tonight?"

"Fine." She conceded. It _was_ warm.

His brow softened. "Good girl. Let's keep moving."

"By the Stone, yes!" Britta grumbled, rolling her eyes. "Can we keep the goo-goo eyes to a minimum, please?"

Anders sighed. "If we _must."_

She heard footsteps and gestured for the others to be quiet, drawing her axe. Anders and Britta followed suit, readying their weapons. Varric loaded Bianca.

"Who's there?" She yelled to the shadows. A solitary man stepped forward. She recognized his attire. _A Reining Man. Just as I thought. _

He hunched his back in submission, raising his hands to the sky, but his smile belied the act. There were more of them hiding. Hawke sneered. The hunter's eyes widened as he seemed to realize he wasn't fooling anyone.

"Are these the guys you were looking for?" Britta laughed. "Pathetic."

She didn't answer.

"Slavers." Varric frowned. "They never learn, do they?"

"Where's the Leashmaster?" Hawke snapped. The man stepped backward, tilting his head to the side just barely. The other men emerged from the shadows, weapons drawn.

"An ambush, oh no, I'm taken aback." Anders said in a tired voice. "Can we do this quickly? I'm feeling a bit peckish."

"Here's your chance." Britta cocked her head toward Hawke. "Time to get mad."

Hawke steeled herself. She did as Britta instructed, recalling the memory of the magister into existence. She saw the reddish glow in his hands, heard the cackling laughter, saw his evil grin. Suddenly she was in the Hanged Man again, cutting down demons left and right. The swipe of her axe leaving death in her wake. All she could see was red, all she could feel was hatred. She could see daggers slicing at her, but could not feel any pain. She could hear voices, but could not decipher their meaning.

She buried her axe into a stomach and pulled it out, flinging it to the side. Her hands reached into the newly made orifice of their own accord, tearing out pink pieces of flesh and spattering blood around her. She flung a fistful of innards into the eyes of another attacker. Before she knew it, she had leapt upon him with a roar, pushing her thumbs into his eyes until they exploded, then pressed her palms on his temples at either side of his face, caving in his skull with a sickening crack. She rammed down another, punching him square in the throat, collapsing his trachea. The man grabbed at his neck, gasping for air for a moment before collapsing on the ground.

The last slaver ran for his life, but Hawke's adrenaline allowed her to move at an unnatural speed. She rained a flurry of blows down onto the slaver's face. She could hear bones cracking and she was unsure whether it was her fists or her victim's nose, nor did she care. Soon his face was nothing but a bloody, mangled pulp. She continued to pound him until she felt her hair being tugged, a signal they had devised to get her to snap out of it. "He's not going to get much more dead than _that_." She heard Anders' voice say.

It took her a moment to regain composure, but she complied. Color flooded back into the scenery. She could taste blood in her mouth. Had she eaten someone? She couldn't remember. She didn't really want to know.

She looked around her. It was a massacre. She had butchered these men, most of them with her own bare hands, and she felt no remorse or sympathy for them. Only confusion. Her friends stared at her with a look of horror and awe. Britta just smiled. "You're a berserker alright." She offered up a hand. Hawke took it, pulling herself to her feet.

"Did I...?"

"All of them." Britta answered.

"Good." Hawke said. "Loot their corpses and leave them for the rats to gnaw on. They deserve no less." She began heading toward Hightown. She needed a bath.

"What, no 'thank you'? No 'goodbye'? Got what you came for, did you? I didn't realize I was at the Blooming Rose, ungrateful bitch." Britta chuckled.

"Thank you, Britta. I'll be in touch. Very soon, perhaps."

"Damn right you will. You still haven't seen me when I'm angry."

Hawke managed a smile. "And thank the Maker for that."

* * *

When she was clean and clothed she sat on the bed next to Anders. She was remarkably awake for someone who had brutally slaughtered a dozen men not an hour earlier. He knelt down in front of her, taking her hands in his.

"Are you alright?" He asked, tenderly.

"Of course. Why? I have nothing to feel sorry for. Those men earned their fates."

"That's not what I meant." He said putting his head in her lap. "The Foundry, it must have been hard for you to be there again."

Her heart fluttered. She hadn't given it much thought since they'd left. It seemed Anders was agonizing over it more than she was.

"I'm fine Anders." she said, stroking his hair. "You were there with me."

He lifted his head, but didn't look at her, a weary expression on his face. He smoothed her robe over her thigh with the palm of his hands.

"When Leandra died, I wanted to comfort you, but that was so soon after you and Fenris...I didn't think it was me you wanted to talk to. I thought I would have only made it worse." She chuckled to herself. "What?"

"If only you had seen the woeful attempt at comfort he offered. Fenris was many wonderful things, but comforting was not one of them." She smiled a sad little smile. "It was actually pretty awkward. I would have been glad for your company after that."

He smiled. "You always know just what to say."

* * *

The Hanged Man was alive with boisterous laughter and song, it seemed at odds with the mood in the room. Hawke had gathered them up in Varric's suite. It was time.

"So, do you know why I called you all here?" Hawke asked.

"Did I do something wrong? I'm sorry if I did." Merrill said with pleading eyes.

Hawke sighed. "Anyone else?"

"Not in the slightest." Aveline said, folding her arms.

"I think I know what this is about, but I really hope I'm wrong." Varric said.

"A pint for the first person who clues me in." Isabela stared at Varric.

"I called you here because I need your help avenging Fenris."

Varric shook his head. "I wish I wasn't right all the time." Isabela snorted.

"I don't understand. You fought Danarius and lost. Now you want to go to Minrathous and fight on his turf? This seems unwise even for you, Hawke."

"Becoming a berserker will give me just the edge I need to defeat that rat bastard."

"What does Blondie think about all this? I noticed he's not here." Varric asked. Hawke tightened her lips. "Oh Maker, you didn't tell him, did you?"

"No, and none of you are going to tell him either." She said, looking them each in the eye.

Varric threw his hands in the air. "Why shouldn't I? He's going to find out anyway."

"Because I'll make you regret it if you do."

"So? He'll kill me himself if I don't."

"At least he'll give you the mercy of a quick death. You've seen what I can do."

"You would never. You love me too much, Hawke." He sat back in his chair grinning confidently.

"Please, Varric." She said, clasping her hands together.

He scrunched his brow, massaging the center of his forehead. "You have no idea how much you owe me."

She hugged him. "Thank you."

"Stop making me feel feelings. I'm already starting to regret this."

"Count me in." said Britta from a corner. Hawke nodded at her.

She turned to Isabela. "My ship and I are yours. It's the least I can do, since you helped me get it in the first place."

"Damn straight." Hawke laughed.

"I want to come!" Merrill said excitedly. "Please take me!"

"This isn't going to be fun, Merrill. I'm going because I need to kill someone. Minrathous is a dangerous place. It's full of slaves, most of them elves like you and Fenris."

"I know but...you always leave me behind. It's like you don't believe in me. I want to prove that I can be helpful." She looked pitiful.

"Of course you can come." she said. "I just don't want you to be disappointed."

Merrill nodded. "You can count on me, lethallan."

Hawke turned her gaze to Aveline. The guard captain put her hand up. "There's no way I'm abandoning my duties and my husband to help you kill yourself."

"I've always been there for you, Aveline. I didn't want it to have to come down to this, but you owe me."

"For Jeven? Helping me woo Donnic? It's a little different."

"How so?"

"I have a duty to this city."

"And what about your duty to your friends?"

Aveline sighed. "That's low even for you, Hawke." She let her hands fall to her side. "I just know this is a bad idea, but you've forced my hand, haven't you?"

"I'll make it up to you."

"Make it up to Donnic." She said. "He's not going to be happy about this."

"How soon can we leave, Isabela?"

"I could call in a few favors, we could leave the port with a skeleton crew as early as tomorrow if you really, really wanted."

"Lets." She said.

Isabela rolled her eyes. "Guess I'm going to be up all night, and not in a good way." Hawke kissed her on the cheek. "Lower." she winked, squeezing her ripe breast.

"The rest of you get some rest, and meet me at the docks tomorrow at dawn. Come prepared. I want this over and done with." They filed out of the room, all except Varric who was gesturing at Hawke to take a seat.

"I know what you're going to say, Varric, and I'm not going to change my mind. Anders will get over it."

"He has a right to know."

"He'd only try to stop me."

Varric frowned. "There's a pretty good reason for that."

"Because he loves me and wants to keep me from getting hurt or killed. I know. I'm still going through with this."

"Two good reasons, then."

Hawke cocked an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

"Let's just say there is more to this than meets the eye."

"Stop being cryptic. What do you know?"

"Oh no. This is between you and Blondie, I'm staying out of your love-life. If you want full disclosure, you're going to have to tell him your plan."

"Blackmail, is it? This seems beneath you, Varric."

"I thought you knew me better, Hawke."

"Whatever it is, I can't tell Anders."

"Can't say I didn't warn you."


	44. A Modest Proposal

**Anders**

Anders was grinding furiously at a handful of witchbane. Hawke had been acting strangely ever since that night at the docks, even for her. He tried to write it off as grief, but he knew her better than that. When Hawke grieved, she threw herself into her work. People died. Things got done. She was just quiet, ruminating, secretive.

And then there was this business at the Hanged Man. Business he wasn't allowed to be a part of. The thought niggled at him. She had all but forbid him from coming. She'd laid out her trump cards early, questioning his trust in her with a pained expression. He did trust her, but she wasn't herself. She insisted that nothing was wrong, and he was being paranoid. That was the end of that argument, as far as she was concerned. He either loved her or he didn't and if he did, he'd allow her to go.

He cursed. He'd ground the herb much too finely, it was useless now. He tossed it into the fire. It cracked as it hit the flames, sending sparks flying up.

"What did that plant ever do to you?" Hawke asked, strolling into the room, she put her arms around him from behind.

"By that logic, I'm some kind of mass murderer of vegetation. It's a wonder our garden doesn't sprout legs and run screaming bloody murder."

She chuckled, rubbing his chest through his robes. He was having difficulty thinking straight. He was supposed to be upset with her.

"Done plotting my imminent demise then? I assume Isabela had some interesting ideas for that. Probably involving outrageous amounts of rope."

"She can't get past the part where every time we make love it's a threesome." Hawke whispered in his ear. The room began to feel very warm.

"She would be sorely disappointed if she knew what it was actually like. I hope you didn't tell her, for her sake of course." She began kissing his neck.

"What it's like? You mean how I'm really thinking about Justice the whole time? That he's the real hero between the sheets?"

"It's true. I'm merely a willing vessel." He laughed. He doubted Justice would care for that one, if he were around to hear it.

"Willing indeed." She said seductively, stroking the bulge in his lap with the side of her thumb. He closed his eyes. "I've always wondered, do all your veins glow when Justice takes over?"

"Keep teasing and you may soon find out." He said fervently, biting his lip.

"Mmm, idle threats." She smiled taking his hand. She circled to stand in front of him. "And who said I was teasing? Though I daresay the thought of tormenting you until you unleash your inner demon on me has some appeal." She moved toward the bedchamber, pulling him with her.

She pulled off her finery, revealing her pert white breasts.

"Are you sure you're ready, love?"

"Maker, yes." She said pushing him onto the bed and climbing into his lap. "I've been thinking about you all day." Her fingers worked at his robes. He helped, throwing his mantle and jacket to the side.

"Not that I'm complaining, but why is that?" He kissed and bit at her throat as she pulled his tunic off and began unlacing his breeches.

She smiled. "You were worried about me."

"I was worried about you..." He repeated, confused.

"The other day. I ripped apart a bunch of men with my bare hands and you were worried about me, about how I was dealing with being in the Foundry again."

"Ah." He said. "I see. And that's all it took?" She nodded. "For future reference, I'm always worried about you."

"You mean you're always horny." She grinned.

"You give me plenty of reasons for both, Hawke." He said finally free of his pants. She stroked his stiff member. "See? Another one."

"Are you worried or..." he interrupted with a kiss, a deep kiss of longing and desperation. He pushed her back on the bed. The time for talk was over.

His eyes slammed shut as he pushed himself inside her. Even better than he remembered. How long had it been? He sucked a whistling breath in through his teeth. She hadn't lied, she was more than ready for him. She placed careful kisses on the slope of his neck and his shoulders, blowing cool air on them. He gave a ragged sigh of approval.

He weaved his fingers in hers, pressing them into the mattress and bent to suck an erect nipple into his mouth. She moaned quietly. Without realizing, he was crashing into her, none too gently. She didn't seem to mind, her mewls of pleasure guiding him toward bliss. She pulsated around him. He moved his hands to her hips to hold them still, winding up and colliding back into her with a clap. She clawed at the sheets, shouting his name. "I love you." She said, squeezing around him. And that was enough to send him careening into ecstasy.

He sat back, wiping the sweat from his brow and just stared at her. She blew her hair out of her face with a puff and sat up next to him, smiling. "What?"

"You love me." He repeated, closing his eyes and resting his head on her shoulder. He traced a long jagged scar across her thigh from memory. He knew every mark on her body by heart.

"Of course I do, silly." She said laughing at him. "Why else would I have stayed with your crazy self for three years?"

"You've never said that before." He said softly.

"What are you on about?" She furrowed her brow. "I tell you that all the time."

"No. I think I would remember that."

"Okay, crazy man." she said chuckling.

"Say it again."

"I love you, Anders." She said in a sing-song voice, rolling her eyes. "Are you happy now?"

He reached a hand up to stroke her cheek, but didn't lift his eyes to look at her. He felt unworthy after she'd given him this gift. His hands were trembling.

"You have no idea." he whispered.

"You're serious then, aren't you?" She asked. He didn't answer. "You really didn't know?" He looked up at her, a tear glistened in his eye. She grinned. "What am I going to do with you?"

"Marry me." he said, unfaltering. The words sprang naturally from his mouth, as if this were a casual conversation between the two of them. "Tell Andraste herself that we belong to one another."

"Anders, be real."

"You think I'm joking? Marry me, Hawke. Be my wife." He emphasized the last three words, drawing them out.

"Don't you think it's a little out of the blue?"

"For three long years I have waited for you to say those words. I've loved you since the beginning. It was never a question for me. I'm yours. Time to tell the world that you are mine." She sighed, opening her mouth to speak, he interrupted her. "Just think about it. You don't have to answer me now."

She looked at him long and hard, sadness in her eyes. It wasn't a good sign, but he couldn't regret what he'd said. After a while she smiled and laid her head back on her pillow, gesturing for him to join her. He held her close until she fell asleep.


	45. Bad Trip

**Fenris**

It had been weeks since he'd felt sunlight on his skin, but his master had business inside the city. Meeting some magister, signing documents, something official like that. Fenris didn't care, he was glad to be outside again.

He looked out at the once great city of Minrathous, now a crumbling heap of gaudy stonework and despair. Except for the proud mage tower. It loomed over him, as if in dominance. If he were free, he would clench his fists and bare his teeth in defiance, but instead he stared ahead of him, parting the crowds before his master with his menacing demeanor.

They arrived at the mansion of this other magister, Severa? Severina? Fenris forgot the name as soon as he heard it. The only name he needed was "magister". That suited him just fine. It summarized her entire existence to him, and she didn't deserve the dignity of a name. He bowed low before her, as was expected of him and got out of their way. No one bothered to look at him again for the remainder of the visit, almost all day. That suited him as well.

He tuned out their conversation, directing his thoughts to Hawke, as always. He thought of that day he saw her in the Hightown market. He could remember it in such vivid detail. The bottle of wine, the apples, the sun, the chill in the air. Minrathous was in the middle of it's summer, which was insufferably hot. It would get worse before it got better. He would have been thankful for a chilly Kirkwall morning, now. But more importantly there was Hawke and her basket, and the way she thanked him for his friendship, as though he was someone special.

He wondered what it would be like if he hadn't been such a coward so many years ago, if he'd told her how he felt and asked her to choose between he and Anders, or if he'd never left in the first place. Would that have changed anything? Or would it only have made things harder?

A slave came and placed a stack of paperwork before them. The magisters got to work signing everything.

This other magister seemed to admire Danarius, Fenris noted. She looked him up and down while one of her slaves poured him a glass of wine, making clear her intentions. Fenris felt disgusted. She was quite brazen with the flirtation. Danarius would suck his teeth quietly every time she made a lewd comment. She only got worse with more wine. She seemed to think herself quite droll, but his master was obviously unimpressed. He merely tolerated her, Fenris decided. Whatever business they had together was probably important or he would have left hours ago.

A fat, bald man in green notary robes came in and pressed a stamp onto one of the papers they had signed. He kissed the woman magister's hand, gave a small bow before Danarius, then turned to leave. _Odd._

When they finally left, Danarius let out a sigh of relief. Fenris could not blame him.

* * *

He saw a great dragon approaching. It's eyes were as deep and intensely blue as the sea it swam across. It's red and gold scales glistened, each one ending in a point as sharp and cruel as any dagger.

Beneath it's leviathan body the waters churned and turned red as blood. The sky above it was almost as dark as night, thunder rolled and lightning licked the waves beside it. Fish, birds, even predators of the sea, every living thing fled in it's presence.

It sped past Llomeryn, up the Amaranthine Ocean, and through the Northern passage and the Venefication sea. In the Ventosus Straits it's fin came crashing down, forming a huge wave that toppled the Eyes of Nocen. And as it came into view, far off the coastline of Minrathous, the sky began to rain blood.

A tsunami came and swallowed the city, felling the ampitheatre and the circle tower. The beast blew fire from it's nostrils, charring Danarius and the other magisters. They disintegrated and were washed away with the murky, red water.

The dragon turned its gaze upon Fenris. It roared, and the buildings left standing tumbled to the ground. Waves crashed down all around him, but not a drop of water landed on his body. He bowed. The monster lowered it's head as well, as if to recognize that they were equals.

For once in his life, Fenris was not afraid.

* * *

"Why did you stop? Are you paying attention?" Danarius snapped at him. Fenris blinked half a dozen times, trying to get his bearings on this world again. Had he been daydreaming? It felt so real. He swore he could still feel the heat from the dragon's flame. Yet here Danarius was, still very much alive, and here Minrathous was, still standing. How strange.

"I-I'm sorry, master." He said.

"What's gotten into you? Are you ill?"

"I'm not sure, master. I was hallucinating. Perhaps it is the heat."

Danarius pondered this for a moment. "It's the lyrium." He said in a bored voice. "That's a common side effect. No doubt your brands require some maintenance after ten years. I will deal with it."

Fenris could hardly contain his gasp. "Yes, master." He said quietly.

Fenris unlocked the door to the estate and stood aside to allow his master past him.

"This day has been an exercise in patience for me. I am tired. Begone, Fenris."

Fenris bowed, grateful to be relieved for the evening.

* * *

Sleep evaded him. Too much to think about.

What had happened earlier? He called it a hallucination, but was that the right word for it? Danarius said his markings were to blame. Had he unintentionally crossed over the veil into the Fade. It certainly didn't feel like the Fade. He had been there once before with Hawke. It was not like this world, at all. This waking dream he experienced had really felt like Minrathous. It even smelled like Minrathous, like the sea and blood and something else. Something vaguely familiar.

Perhaps there were different levels of the Fade. Different dimensions. That did not seem so unlikely.

Or perhaps it was a vision from the Maker. He realized it was blasphemous for him to even consider that. The Maker had abandoned the people of Thedas. The only person He had ever spoken to since the fall was Andraste. To say the Maker was speaking to him was to say he was equal to Her. Yet this dream of his had seemed spiritual in nature. Like a premonition. A divined symbol of things to come.

He pushed it out of his mind. If the Maker did have something to say, He wouldn't choose Fenris to speak to.

Besides, what had happened was almost irrelevant now. The lyrium inside him was unstable and required the magister's touch. He shuddered, remembering the pain like it was still happening.

The "therapy" as Danarius liked to call it, was not as horrendous as the ritual that had created him, such as he was, but it came close. Bad enough that he couldn't move for days at a time, but not bad enough that he would forget his entire life. The longer the time between treatments, the longer it would take to finish. The longer it took to finish, the more painful it would be.

Once the magister had taken him on a trip to Orlais. They'd been away from Minrathous for almost an entire year. The pain of the treatment upon their return was mind-numbing. It took five hours and he nearly died in the process. He wasn't able to stand for a whole week. He couldn't imagine what this time would entail.


	46. 50 Ways to Leave Your Lover

**Anders**

He woke with a start to the sound of the door creaking. The sun in it's bright vestments was making it's way up the horizon. The fire had died, and thus it was freezing. Hawke was not in bed.

He peeked into the foyer. There she was, in her full armor and a pack on her back, whispering something to a very sleepy Bodahn and pressing some coin into his hand. Something was wrong. The door clicked behind her, and then she was gone. He got dressed quickly, his bones creaking. He was getting too old for this sort of thing.

"Good morning, messere." said Bodahn, cheerfully as he charged down the stairs.

"Where did she go?" Anders asked, not in the mood for chatting.

"So you don't know." Bodahn raised his eyebrows. "Maybe I shouldn't be the one to tell you, my friend."

"Bodahn, where is she?" He said, massaging the bridge of his nose.

"She said she was leaving for a while. Said she was going on a trip with her pirate friend. That's all I know."

Anders ran out the door, without bothering to say goodbye or thank you. There was only one way Isabela would ever agree to travel if they were leaving the Free Marches. He sped through Hightown, intention carrying his steps. A regular patient of his waved to him, but he had to focus on catching up with Hawke. He thought he saw the red of her cape near the entrance to Lowtown, but it was just some clothing on a line. He wondered if he could make it to the Docks before her.

A trip? Without him? Where? Why?

He gave a sigh of relief as he saw the sails of Isabela's ship come into view. He slowed his pace to a jog. When he reached the ship he dry-heaved from exhaustion. Isabela was too busy issuing orders to her crew to notice him. He came up behind her and tapped her on the back, brusquely. She turned.

"Shit." She said, palming her forehead.

"Where?"

"She isn't here yet." She frowned.

Merrill almost knocked him over as she exited the door of a cabin. "Oh. Hello Anders." She said. "I didn't know you were coming with us. Hawke said not to tell you..."

"Merrill! Stop talking!" Isabela clamped a hand over her mouth.

He fumed, pacing in front of them. "You're kidding, right? Please say you're joking! Merrill! Of all people!" Merrill gave him a hurt look.

Aveline boarded, walking right past them.

"Aveline too. Great! This is just great! Who else is coming?"

"Varric and Britta." Isabela answered.

"Varric and Bri...oh Maker! It's a party isn't it? And I'm the only one not invited. What was she thinking?"

"I was thinking you'd try and stop me if I told you." Hawke snapped from behind him. He turned on a dime, his nostrils flaring. "Was I wrong?"

"You didn't even say goodbye!"

Her eyes softened a little. Anders raised his eyebrows in realization. "Wait, a minute. You did, didn't you? That's what last night was all about. A last romp before you left me forever!" The look on her face was all the answer he needed. "Brilliant!" he screamed, kicking a mop bucket. "Just bloody fantastic!"

She tried to put her hand on his shoulder but he yanked himself away. "Don't you dare touch me until you explain yourself. What in Andraste's name is going on?"

She looked to Isabela for help, she just shrugged.

"Answer me, Marian Hawke!" He said, through his teeth.

"What have I told you about calling me by my first name?" She growled.

"You don't get to be angry at me!" He said, getting in her face. "You left me, and I deserve to know why!"

She pushed him backwards, matching the intensity in his voice. "This isn't about you, Anders! I know you think the world revolves around you, but I have my own agenda. If you really want to know, take a seat."

"This should be good." He sat on a crate.

She leaned against the side of the ship, looking out onto the Waking Sea. "We are sailing to Tevinter."

He shot up, scrubbing his face with palms of his hands. "Varric told you! I'll kill him!"

"So he was telling the truth. You're such a hypocrite!"

"Don't make this about me! I withheld information in order to protect you. You left me without saying a word, and evidently everyone knew except for me. Even Bodahn! Do you have any idea how that feels?"

"As it happens, yes, I do! What information did you keep from me?"

He cocked his head to the side, lowering his voice. "So you really don't know?"

"That's what I've been trying to tell you!"

"Andraste's sword, I'm a bleeding idiot."

"Yes. Now will you please tell me what's going on?"

"Hawke, I..."

"Tell me."

"Better come clean, Blondie." Varric winked at him walking up the gangplank. "Tell her about the hostage."

"The hostage." Anders repeated, his brow creased.

"Yeah, Varania. Oh don't give me that look, she was going to find out anyway."

"What do you mean? Danarius has Varania? How do you know this?" Hawke asked incredulously.

"A letter." Varric said, quickly. "From the magister himself. If you ever step foot in Tevinter, he'll kill her. I don't think he was bluffing."

Hawke seemed to ponder this for a moment, then said. "What do I care of Varania? She betrayed Fenris. He would probably still be alive if it wasn't for her treachery. Why keep this a secret, Anders?"

"Blondie?" Varric gave him a look that implied it was his turn to sell it.

"Errrr..." He thought for a second. "Because she's Fenris' sister, and probably just a pawn in Danarius' scheme. I thought maybe you'd try to save her if you knew."

"Exactly." Varric said, sighing visibly. Apparently he'd done well.

Hawke raised her eyebrows. "I see. Be that as it may, Varania chose her fate. She sold out her own brother to become a magister. I have no sympathy for her. And you should have told me."

"Practice what you preach." He glowered at her.

"Are you saying you wouldn't have stood in my way if I'd told you?"

"We'll never know, will we? You didn't even give me a chance! Haven't I always been supportive and understanding?"

"Anders, can't you see that I wasn't trying to hurt you?"

"Well I am hurt." He said, crossing his arms. "What if you never came back. Do you know what that would do to me? Especially after last night."

"I'm sorry." She said hanging her head. "I should have trusted you."

He took her in his arms, already feeling guilty about the deception. Varric's quick thinking probably saved their relationship,at least for the moment, but how could he sleep at night when he was tangled in a web of lies?

"Let's go home." He said.

"What? No. I'm going."

"You can't be serious!" He shouted.

"Weren't you just going on about how understanding and supportive you were? Now you're back to shouting at me. Damn you!" She threw her pack on the ground.

"Fine. You leave me no choice, do you? I'm coming. If only to make sure you don't die." _And to make sure you don't find out..._

"Fine, but you're not sleeping in my cabin! I can't even look at you right now."

_Oh good. To top it off, I'll be wrestling these demons alone tonight._

* * *

His gut was tying itself in knots. _More filthy lies._ It had been different the first time, it was justifiable. But this lie wasn't even enough to stop her from going. Soon his shameful deceit would be found out. He wondered how much those facts had contributed to the guilt he was feeling, and it disgusted him.

He wanted to come clean, but there was still a chance he could stop this. If there wasn't a way, he'd make one.

The rest of the party gave him space, but there might as well have been miles between he and Hawke. She wouldn't even look at him. How did he manage to make her angry at him? She left and he ended up in the doghouse.

Whatever the case, it was deserved.

**_You must be able to move past this. You only did it to protect her._**

The thought startled him. It wasn't his own. He fell backward over a barrel.

_Justice? _It had been weeks since he'd heard the spirit's voice. It sounded different.

**_I am an aspect of Justice, yes._**

_Vengeance. _Anders sneered. _You're back. I guess it really was too good to be true._

**_No._**

_Explain._

**_I am a facet of Justice you neglected to ever recognize until recently. Your feelings of oppression and persecution warped your ideals. You never considered the idea that not all templars were evil, many were just doing their jobs, trying to provide for their families. Many were brainwashed and capable of remorse. Many were given to the Chantry at birth. When you merged with Justice, you would have subjected them all to the same fate because they chose to be a part of a tyrannical system. That is why Vengeance was created._**

Anders pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to take this all in. Let_ me ask once more: who are you?_

**_I am Clemency. _****_The woman you love tried to kill you. You absolved her because she was not responsible for her actions at the time. Whether you realized it or not, this pardon changed your ideology, allowing me to exist._**

_So Vengeance is gone?_

**_No. Vengeance and I are both attributes of the spirit of Justice. We both exist within him, though we are incapable of working together. Your forgiveness is simply stronger than your need for retribution at this time. Whether or not it will remain that way, I cannot say._**

_Are there other forms?_

**_I do not know. _**

Anders considered this. He saw it for what it was; a second chance for both he and his friend Justice.

_But not everyone is deserving of leniency. Meredith, for example. Should I pardon her, as well?_

**_The sentence must befit the crime. Meredith must die, yes. But must she be brutally murdered? And what of Thrask and Keran? As an avatar of Justice you must learn to discern the difference between those who can and cannot be rehabilitated. As a mortal being, your measure of fairness is inherently skewed. If you do not wish to lose yourself to Vengeance you must learn to be neutral in your judgment, in the purest sense of the word. It would not take much to tip the scales._**

The thanks could be laid almost directly at Hawke's feet. She had saved him, once again, and she didn't even realize it. It felt wrong that she'd given him so much and he'd turned around and lied to her again.

_**You did what you thought was right, and you are truly remorseful. May your next act of Clemency be for yourself, human.**_

He snorted. Forgiving her had been easy. He could never stay mad at her for long, but how could he forgive himself? He was certain she never would._ I can't. Not until I atone for my actions. If I can successfully stop her, then I may._

_**So be it.**_


	47. Lovers' Quarrel

**Hawke**

Hawke grumbled as she put on her bed robe. Anders was staring longingly at her, it was hard not to notice, even with her back turned to him.

She was angry at Isabela for putting them in a cabin together, angry at Varric for refusing to share his with him. Isabela offered her a place in her bed, but it seemed clear there were certain unspoken stipulations involved in that arrangement that Hawke wasn't desperate enough to agree to.

"Can you avert your eyes while I change?"

"I've seen you naked half a million times." He whined.

"If you ever want to see me naked again you'll shut your mouth and look away." Anders sighed loudly and laid back, staring at the ceiling.

She climbed into bed next to him, ensuring a decent margin between the two of them. She was tired of this trip already, and tired of Anders and his mournful expressions. For some reason he seemed to believe that the "Anders pout" was his ace in the hole, but in reality it was just absurd. It made it impossible for Hawke to take him seriously. She wished he would just say whatever it was he needed to say and go to bed. Instead he turned away from her on the bed, licking his thumb and pointer finger to snuff out the candle. Pouting like his life depended on it.

This would have been fine if not for his sighing. The air in the room was thin with his huffing and puffing. He tossed and turned, forcing her to be acutely aware of his presence. It would not do.

"Do you mind? The bed rocks enough without your help." Anders sighed again. "And stop doing that."

"Will you listen to yourself? Is there anything I do that doesn't bother you? Would you like me to stop breathing as well?"

"I didn't realize that was an option." She said turning in the opposite direction of him. "Go right ahead."

"Oh, grow up, Hawke."

"Stop treating me like a child, then."

"What do you want from me? I still don't understand how it is that you're the one angry at me. Let's not forget who left who."

"This again? Really? This never grows old for you?"

"Right, what a petty little man I am. I finally get up the nerve to propose to you, you leave the next morning without a word and somehow I can't get over it. It's sad, really."

"Oh yes, as if I could forget about that." she snorted.

"You can if you'd prefer." He said.

"Fine. If that's what you want." She called his bluff.

"You've made it abundantly clear that you don't care what I want. If it makes you feel better to pretend I never asked, then so be it. I know your answer already, anyway."

"Oh so you're a bloody mind-reader now. It seems that your magic grows stronger the closer you get to the Imperium. Never worry, serrah. Soon you'll be able to bend me to your will and I'll have no choice but to marry you and push out a dozen babies, all tainted and possessed and too sarcastic for their own good."

"You're defensive, and yet you don't deny it. My timing was good, wasn't it? If only I hadn't been such a light sleeper you'd have bowed out of that uncomfortable situation and moved on with your life by now."

"I hadn't made a decision one way or the other. In fact, I was seriously considering it on the way to the ship, but if you would rather renege and send me back to Kirkwall single so be it. There's certainly no shortage of eligible men in the city. I could marry a nobleman, make my mother proud."

"I haven't reneged anything. The offer is still on the table and you know it. And don't even joke about that last bit." He sat up, throwing the covers off him and turned to her. Pout, pout, pout. It was too dark to distinguish his features, but Hawke could tell. "We belong together."

"So that's why you came along. To make sure I would come back to you."

"You can't be stupid enough to believe that, can you? I came along to make sure you came back. Period. Believe it or not, I do actually love you. It would break my heart if you left, but if you were hurt..." His voice trailed off. Hawke could now hear the pouting in his voice. Ridiculous.

Hawke rubbed her eyes, irritated. It was her turn to sigh. It wasn't clear who was the bad guy anymore. "I'm not leaving! I'm not dying! Can we move past this now?"

"With pleasure. You first."

"You're impossible."

"If by impossible you mean adorable, then yes. Yes I am."

She chuckled despite herself. "Yes, well, stop it. I'm supposed to be angry at you."

"You have nothing to be ashamed about, love. You held out longer than most." He drew her close, kissing her lips. She resisted a little for the sake of it, but gave in anyway.

* * *

She dreamed about Fenris again. She wondered why, of all the time she had spent with Fenris, she was forced to relive the confusing coma dream again and again. Upon waking she would forget the words he spoke to her in Arcanum. The more she struggled to remember, the more they eluded her. She was certain they were important. A key of some sort.

Anders noticed the shifting in the bed and turned, offering her a slice of toast from off his plate. She waved it away. She was trying to think. Trying to recall a memory of something that might not have happened, but if it did, she needed those words.

Varric knocked and came in without waiting for a response. Hawke scrambled under the blankets to make herself decent.

"So it did work." He chuckled. "You two are so predictable."

"Something you need, Varric?" Anders glared. "Or did you just come to ogle? I can leave, if you'd like."

Varric coughed loudly, changing the subject. "The pirate queen requests an audience with the Champion and her consort. That's you Blondie."

"Tell her we'll be down in a minute." Hawke said.

"Tell her we'll be down after Hawke eats breakfast." Anders glared at her. "Physician's orders." Varric nodded and left, shutting the door behind him.

Hawke rolled her eyes. "I'm not hungry."

"You're still a little underweight. I have been very lax with you regarding your recovery. That was when you had all the time in the world to get better, but if you're intent on doing this, I need you in the pinnacle of your health, and you don't have much time."

"Fine." Hawke said, stealing a piece of salt pork off of his plate.

He grinned. "You're actually listening to me for once? I will remember this day for the rest of my life."

"Keep your mouth shut, I have a reputation to maintain."

"Yes, we wouldn't want the others to know you take orders from someone squishier than you." He smirked.

"Glad we have an understanding, then."


	48. A Contract

**Fenris**

He strode down the corridor leading to Danarius' office to answer his master's summons. The magister rarely spent any time there. He hired accountants and other help for his paperwork. Much too technical for a slave. The room was mostly used for private meetings with people of high repute.

From outside the door he could hear indistinct murmuring between two people, one of them sounded female. He rapped gently on the door and waited until the magister bade him enter. He pushed open the door to reveal that awful female magister sitting across from Danarius. She didn't turn to him.

"Fenris, you remember magister Severa, yes?" Fenris bowed, she ignored him. "I'm certain you'll be happy to hear she'll be living with us from now on."

Fenris tried to blink away the questions and the discomfort. What was this all about? Danarius hated the other magisters, and now he was sharing his home with one? This did not bode well for Fenris.

Danarius was staring, waiting for an answer. He nodded. Understanding. That would have to be good enough, because he could not manage to feign appreciation right then. His master raised an eyebrow but continued.

"Now that the marriage is officiated, Minrathous common law dictates that she also holds stake in all of my possessions."

So that was what that meeting had been about. a marriage contract. Another master. He didn't dare to balk at the ease with which Danarius shared his toys. It shouldn't have surprised him.

Severa looked up from her tea at Fenris, it was the first time she'd so much as glanced in his direction. She was pretty, but evil often was. She was younger than Danarius, a lot younger. Her long brown hair was coiled in a massive bun on the back of her head. She had huge gray eyes and a galaxy of freckles across her upturned nose, which made her appear almost innocent. Fenris was not fooled, however.

He hoped his eyes did not betray his worry. Danarius was bad enough, but this woman was unpredictable, dangerous. Fenris shuffled uncomfortably under his new master's gaze. She seemed to size him up, then satisfied, looked away.

"I have arranged for Severa to stay in the bedroom next to mine. You will take her there."

"Yes master." Fenris said.

Severa rose from her seat, placing the pink teacup on Danarius' desk with a clink. When Fenris was sure she was following he turned into the hall. He did not like having this woman walking behind him. He could feel her eyes upon him.

"So you are the slave Danarius always goes on about." It was more of an observation than a question.

"Yes, mistress." Fenris said quietly.

"Hmph." She said. That was all.

When they reached the door to her room, Fenris motioned for her to enter. She stepped inside and immediately slammed the door in his face.

* * *

Suddenly he was on a dirt path in the forest, surrounded by blinking fireflies. The moon was fat and low in the sky ahead of him. A warm breeze blew his hair from his eyes.

He began to hear singing in the distance. As he continued on the path, it became clearer. It was from a language he could not understand, and yet it felt remembered, recalled. Sometimes he felt like someone was following him or walking beside him, but when he turned to look he was alone.

He came across a clearing where the singing was louder, and it sounded as though it surrounded him completely. The ground rose up under him, raising him to the sky, past the treetops and the moon into the void of the cosmos.

The stars began to move and change into different constellations. A hand, an axe, a face. They pulsated with blue light and then lines threaded through them like beads on a string, solidifying their forms. Then they were painted with brilliant color. The darkness of space became the stained glass windows of the chantry, with the warm light of the sun shining through them. Each one depicted a person. To his right, a mage with lightning in his fingertips. In the center, an elven woman in tattered clothing. To his left, a kossith man in beads and warpaint.

And then he saw a figure at the podium. A red cloak shrouded it's face. He ascended the stairs, the singing became louder the closer he got to the figure, and when he finally stood before them it stopped altogether.

He reached for the cloak and yanked it from the individual's head. It flowed softly to the floor to pool at his feet. Thousands of butterflies of every color and shape emerged from the cloak, fluttering away in every direction. The windows shattered, revealing the stars once again. The splinters of glass turned to butterflies as well. The beating of paper-thin wings was the only sound left for him to hear.


	49. Caste-away

**I'm so glad to hear that you guys liked Britta. In this chapter you'll learn a little more about her. I wanted her to be more than just "girl Oghren," so I gave her a bit of a backstory. Hope you like. **

**Hawke**

The door to the captain's quarters opened with a groan. Inside, Hawke found Isabela standing over a man bound to a chair with an immoderate amount of rope, her boot on his chest, tipping the chair back carefully.

"Oh, am I interrupting your playtime? I can come back later." She said.

"Hah!" She laughed. "Even if I was, you're always invited."

"And what is this?" Hawke asked, pointing to the man.

"_This _is a stowaway. I found him hiding in the closet in Britta's cabin. Naughty, naughty boy. He wet himself when I discovered him."

"What do you intend to do with him?"

Isabela smirked. "I hadn't decided yet. My first mate tells me that we are short twenty barrels of drinking water. I can only assume that this one is to blame."

"Maker, man! Were you that thirsty?"

"Please, Messere! I had nothing to do with that. It was the blonde man. I seen him did it with my own two eyes!"

"Blonde man? What Blonde man?" Isabela's eyes narrowed.

"The tall one, he was very well-dressed, he was. He had a ponytail. He was the one what tossed your barrels last night."

"Anders? And you expect me to believe that?"

"It's the Maker's truth! I swear it on Andraste's holy name!"

Isabela pushed the chair over with a crash. "I'll deal with you later." She said to the man. "Where is our friendly neighborhood abomination anyway? I thought I sent for him as well."

"He's coming. He's probably just freshening up. He only has that one outfit with him, after all."

"Do I offend?" He entered the room, lifting his arm and sniffing his armpit. "I apologize, I forgot to pack." He glanced at Hawke sideways. She rolled her eyes. She knew it was meant to be a rib rather than a snipe, but she was starting to realize she'd never live that drama down.

"Well at any rate, we are going to have to make a stop in Bastion to restock. Maybe you can find some fresh clothing there."

"Bastion? In Antiva. Do you think that's wise?" Anders asked, his eyebrows raised.

Isabela shrugged. "We don't have much of a choice. This stowaway dumped a third of our water supply."

"I didn't do it! Tell them the truth! Tell them what you did, messere."

Anders scrunched his face up. "Who is that? He smells like the Hanged Man on a holy day."

"Long story." Hawke said. "Not important. What is important is that I finally get to go to Antiva! I've always wanted to go."

"You've always wanted to go to a country full of assassins and snooty rich people?" Anders asked, he seemed to be genuinely surprised.

"And good wine, shopping and romance!" Hawke exclaimed wistfully.

"That's the spirit." Isabela said.

"Romance? You didn't get enough of that last night? I think I heard the hull cracking from the power of my thrust." He snorted. She punched him in the arm.

"I see you two have made up." Isabela smiled. "I always miss all the fun. Do tell."

"How long before we reach Bastion?" Hawke asked, changing the subject.

"Two weeks if the winds are good, at my estimation. We could hold out until Antiva City if we don't feed our uninvited guest."

"It's your ship Isabela. Bear in mind that we are under maritime jurisdiction now."

"What? No! You can't!" the stowaway objected. "I'm innocent!"

"I'm a pirate, Hawke, legality is rarely something I consider when I'm on land. Out here? My word _is_ law."

"No please! I didn't mean to come! I was drunk and I fell asleep here and when I woke we was in the middle of the ocean."

"Surely you don't mean to kill him?" Anders asked coolly. "He's too pathetic to be worth the effort."

Isabela sighed. "I suppose you're right." She turned to the man. "Fine. You're staying in the brig until I find some work for you. And we're leaving you in Antiva. You can find your own way back to Kirkwall."

"Thank you, messere. Your kindness shames me."

"You haven't yet heard the nature of work I have planned." She winked at him, then leaned over, displaying her massive cleavage.

"Is there anyone you won't sleep with, Isabela?" Anders asked, rubbing his forehead.

"I'm sure there is. I'll let you know if I meet one."

* * *

Hawke practiced her battle stances on the aft end of the ship. She no longer struggled under the weight of her axe. It was beginning to feel like second nature again. Whenever her muscles began to strain, she just remembered that day on the Wounded Coast. The way she danced beside Fenris, laying waste to the unworthy and the unclean. Even just the memory of their synergy increased her focus.

Back then she had felt invincible. After losing Carver and her mother, after Bethany had been taken away, she thought she had given enough. She'd suffered much and well for her life. No one could say she hadn't bled for the people she loved, for her city. Surely the Maker was satisfied. And yet somehow there was always something else dear and beloved for Him to tear from her clutches. Fenris. Why?

But she knew the answer to that question. It was her own foolish pride, her impulsiveness, her weakness that had cost her friend and one-time lover his life. She couldn't bring him back. She couldn't correct her mistake. She could only move forward, build herself anew, stronger and more powerful than she was before and make Danarius suffer. If she had to kill every slaver and magister in Minrathous to get to him, she would.

"Would you like a partner? Or perhaps a target?" She hadn't heard Britta approach. She turned, lowering her weapon. A bead of sweat dripped into her eye. She blinked it away.

"If you're up to the task." She said, smirking.

"Alright, whelp. Let's see what you can do." Britta drew her mace from behind her back. It was bigger than she was, but she didn't seem to notice the weight. She poised herself, beckoning with her eyes for Hawke to make the first move.

Hawke swung her axe in a low sweeping motion across the floor. Britta jumped away. She swung again, this time overhead, but Britta ducked. She pushed forward, backing the short, stocky woman into a corner. Britta snickered to herself. She did a forward roll out of range of Hawke's axe, getting behind her. Hawke spun, barely parrying Britta's attack.

"You like that?" Britta smirked, pushing one of her braids behind her shoulder.

"Cocky much?" Hawke smiled.

"Only when it is deserved." She brought her hammer down in a forward arc. The force of would have smeared Hawke across the floor if she hadn't blocked it. Hawke did a quick turn and nailed her on the hip with the flat of her axe.

"I believe that means you're dead." Hawke smiled, self-satisfied.

"Not bad for a whelpling." Britta said rubbing her side. "We'll have to try it again sometime."

Hawke sat down on a crate, gesturing for Britta to have a seat beside her. "So what's your story? We haven't had a chance to really talk yet."

"My story? I should think it's written all over my face." She pointed to her tattoo. "I'm duster scum, lost my stone sense and come topside. Next question."

"If I wanted to know what Orzammar thought of you, I'd ask them. But I know there's two sides to every story."

"Aw, you don't want to hear about that. It's boring."

"I asked, didn't I?" Hawke said.

"You're nothing if not persistent. Fine." She drew in a long breath. "My father was warrior caste. Labhras Harwin, pledged to House Aeducan. He was a warrior because his da was a warrior, so on, so forth. That's just how things work in Orzammar. My da didn't much like that idea. He never took the job seriously. He was a more interested in the casteless whores he could get for a few coppers in Dust Town. You see where this is going or do I have to spell it out?"

"He fell in love with a whore?"

"Just so. Although buying prostitutes is technically forbidden, it's handled with a wink and nudge most often. Being caught with a pregnant duster whore in your Lord's household however...not a good idea as it turns out."

"So what happened?"

"They stripped my da of his caste, along with the rest of his family." She got quiet for a moment. "He was ashamed of what he'd done and more importantly, who he'd done it with. He stayed with ma until I was old enough to take care of myself, at least. Taught me what I know about battle. Then he joined the Legion of the Dead. Left without saying a word. Didn't even invite us to the ceremony. Haven't seen hide nor hair of him since. I guess he's down in the Dead Trenches killing darkspawn. Or he's dead, buried in the stone. I don't much care either way. He may have redeemed himself in the eyes of the Ancestors, but he's less than useless to me. I still wear the brand. I'm still fatherless."

"What about your mother?"

She paused, then sucked in a long breath. "She started drinking the Mosswine. I had to join the Carta to support us. Almost became the damn leader after the Hero of Fereldan killed that Jarvia woman, but after Beraht and Jarvia, I guess you could say I didn't much care for the retirement plan. Anyway, ma drank herself to death about a year after da left. It's a story as old as time itself."

"So you left Orzammar."

"Not immediately. I still had business to take care of, but once that was over I had nothing holding me back. I severed all ties with the Carta and got myself sun-touched. Ancestors be damned. Thought I'd go to Denerim, make a life for myself as a sell-sword. I guess the Blight had other plans for me. "

Hawke nodded. "I know how that is."

"I guess one city is as good as the next. Kirkwall isn't so bad."

"Yeah, still. I miss Fereldan sometimes."

Britta nodded. "We done feeling sorry for ourselves yet? Suddenly I feel very thirsty. I could go for some of that pirate death juice Isabela brought."

"I guess there's no harm. I think there's lime in it. Wouldn't want to get scurvy, would we?"

"Whatever helps you sleep at night, salroka."


	50. A Room with no Windows

**50 chapters! Woohoo!**

**I know you're all anxious to see Fenris rescued. Patience, my friends! Good things come to those who wait, absence makes the heart grow fonder and all those other cliches. **

**Also, in case you're wondering, this story does have a concrete ending, which we are fast approaching. That's why you are only getting one chapter a day now, not to mention I'm only a dozen chapters ahead of you guys. So yes, she _will_ have to make a decision one way or the other and that's that. However, this doesn't mean that Hawke's story is over. I am thinking of turning this into a trilogy or a series of some sort. The rest of which will take place after the battle with the mages and templars, and will involve the adventures of Hawke, her love and to some degree their friends. If that's something you'd be interested in, please let me know. If not, I'd love to hear what you think I should write next. Either way, this definitely won't be my last DA2 fanfic. It's just too rewarding to write every day. **

**One last thing: I do appreciate the reviews, even if I don't respond to all of them. I am trying my best to be as responsive as possible, but work is picking up due to the holidays approaching and stress makes me forgetful. I read the e-mails and say I'll respond to them later and forget all about it. Just know that I do read all of them, and I love them. In return I will make sure you never have to wait more than a day for updates as long as I can help it. :) Thanks for reading. **

**Anders**

The trade district of Bastion was blindingly colorful. He could hear the sound of gold jingling in the pockets of patrons he passed. A little girl grinned up at him with huge brown eyes. He smiled and waved at her, she blushed and hid behind her mother's skirts. _Still got it, Anders._ He thought chuckling to himself.

"What about this one?" Hawke asked, swathing him in purple fabric. "It's a nice color for you. Brings out your eyes. How much for this?" She turned to the merchant.

"Thirty andris." The merchant said.

"I don't like it." Anders said, running his hands over the pleats in the sleeves. "Too _dainty_."

"Fine. How about yellow?"

"I like this one." Anders said, rubbing a gray velvet doublet with silver notions over her cheek.

"Fine eye, my friend. Comfortable for both you and your lover. She won't be able to keep her hands off of you."

"I like the way you think." Hawke winked at him.

"Twenty gold and it's yours." The man said, smiling.

"That's too much, love."

"Fifteen then. Any less and I'd be losing money."

"Throw in one of those capes and I'll take it." Hawke said.

"You drive a hard bargain, but I find it difficult to say no to such a beautiful woman." He raised his eyebrow amorously.

"Antivans." Anders shook his head as they walked away with their purchase.

"We should find you some nice breeches while we're here."

"You're having way too much fun with this." He squeezed her shoulder. "If you want to lavish me with gifts, who am I to complain?"

"Damn right." She said, pulling into another stall. "I like these." She said rubbing a pair of black velvet pants with gold stripes.

"More velvet? That is too much of a good thing, Hawke. I'll look like an Orlesian sofa. Besides, the gold thread and won't match the silver on the doublet."

She sighed. "You're allowed to have more than one outfit, you know."

"How much do you intend to spend on me today? Perhaps there's something you might like instead?"

"What would I want with any of this stuff? It's all very impractical. I'm a warrior, all I need is something that fits, allows for mobility and blocks pointy things."

Anders laughed. "If it's so impractical then why are you buying it for me?"

"Because it makes you look dapper."

"So I'm just arm-candy, then?" he feigned annoyance, but in truth he had always loved wearing nice things. Hawke had a good eye for it, too.

She bought the pants. And a white shirt with ruffled sleeves. And a pair of plain black trousers. And a belt. And she insisted on carrying it all, smacking his hands away when he reached for the bags.

_She is perfect. _He thought to himself.

Isabela caught up with them. "Is that for me?" She batted her eyelashes and began grabbing at the bags.

"There's still time left in the day, I'm sure we could find you something nice."

"You two go have fun. I'm going to explore. I'll meet you back at the ship at sundown." Anders said, thankful for the excuse. Hawke gave him a kiss on the cheek and locked arms with Isabela. He watched them disappear into a stall.

_Alone at last._ He thought. _Let's get this bloody business over and done with._

* * *

It took a while for him to find one, but he did. He pushed the door open. The hinges creaked ominously.

It was eerily silent inside. He stuck out like a sore thumb among the tough patronage of the place. It was not like the Hanged Man. There was no music. no quick-witted barmaid flitting from table to table, passing around pitchers of ale. No talkative drunkards telling stories and laughing. An old toothless man stared him down, daring him to say a word. He slowly approached the barkeep, a dark man in his fifties with a scar over his right eye.

"A quiet room with no windows, please." He whispered.

The bartender glared at him, scanning his features for sincerity. "It will not be cheap, my friend." Anders nodded. He motioned for the serving wench to approach. "Verónica, will you escort our friend to his room? He's weary from traveling and would like some peace and quiet." The girl nodded.

He followed her up the stairs. It was difficult not to notice the sway of her hips and the tendrils of honey-brown hair that flowed down her back in twisting rivulets. It occurred to him that a long time ago he would have been thinking some very unseemly thoughts already, but now she was just another woman who wasn't Hawke.

She led him down a long hall and knocked three times on the door before turning the handle. _Empty. Thank the Maker._

The room was not much to look at. There were two padded chairs, a rough-hewn table with some names carved into it and a sconce on the wall with two candles burned almost all the way down.

She lit the sconce before taking a seat on one of the chairs, gesturing for Anders to sit across from her.

She closed her eyes. There was an awkward silence for a few minutes. When he opened his mouth to speak she put her hand up. "Wait." She said. Her mouth moved as if to form words, but she was silent. _She's praying. _He thought. _How odd._ He drummed his fingers on the table between them. Then after what seemed like an eternity her eyes flicked open and she smiled, leaning toward him. Her ample bosom peeked out of her blouse. Anders noted them with passing interest, just as he'd noted the candles or the names carved in the table.

With a lilting voice she asked. "Now then, what can the Antivan Crows do for you?"


	51. Light Reading

**Fenris**

It had been weeks since Fenris began having these visions, each stranger than the last. Evidently the materials for the maintenance were on back-order from a merchant in Nevarra. The magister did not seem overly concerned either way.

Danarius was spending more and more time in his office, which meant Fenris was spending more and more time standing around, doing nothing. No one was permitted to enter, least of all mistress Severa.

"Tell her I am busy. She will see me at nightfall, as per usual." He would say with a scowl every time she summoned him.

He had his dinners brought up to him, rather than eat it in the dining hall with her. The Antivan fly would be on it's own delicate plate, next to the wine. He would choke it down and, after he ate, he would go perform his duty as a husband.

Fenris was beginning to understand the nature of this marriage. This wife of his was merely a womb to him, a willing receptacle for his seed. After all, the magister was aging. He needed his legacy to continue. And so they married.

He had no affection for her in any capacity. Fenris had known for years that Danarius didn't have much of a taste for the gentler sex. Most everyone in Minrathous knew that. Everyone except Severa, apparently. His new mistress was quite taken by Danarius, in fact. He could tell by her constant giggling and twirling of her hair. He almost felt embarrassed for her.

And despite all this, the Antivan fly, the willingness to conceive, the thirty seconds of sex that could be heard throughout the mansion every night, Severa had failed so far to become with child. His master couldn't even stand to look at her anymore. Some nights he slept in the drab little office, sprawled out across the floor to avoid the possibility of passing her in the corridor.

This was all hilarious to Fenris, although he couldn't allow himself to actually laugh. An impotent and hen-pecked Danarius? A spurned mistress? The Maker's sense of humor was not lost on him, not in the least. He wondered how long it would take before the other magisters began gossiping, if they weren't already.

But at the same time, he felt so very bored, standing with his hands clasped behind his back for hours at a time. He didn't remember it being like that before he escaped. He longed for the rush of battle, for adrenaline, for the clashing of swords, for any kind of challenge really.

Most days he contented himself with imagining Hawke battling Tal-Vashoth or slavers, or blood mages. Anything really, as long as she was involved. Sometimes he would even allow himself to join her side. Two warriors fighting back-to-back, her brute strength, his speed and agility, cowing enemies before them by the dozen.

When they were all dead she would drop her axe, and he would sheath his sword and she would see him, see everything he was. Every secret, every murder, every gruesome detail of his past would lay out before her and she would accept them all without hesitation as she ran into his arms. He would lick the blood from her lips and kiss her most forcefully, dropping them both to their knees. Then they would make love there, in whatever cave or field or city street they were in, among the blood and entrails and brain matter of their fallen victims. Allowing their discarded armor to saturate, their bodies to slick and their hair to mat with gore. Then at the crux of her passion she would say - of all the improbable things that she could say - that she loved him. That was usually enough to snap him back into reality.

It was disturbing how dark his fantasies could get, but he allowed himself this one thing, this one freedom. It was a fantasy after all. Hawke was no more for him. She was just a fairytale.

There was a knock on the office door. "Your lady wife bids you come to her, master." her nursemaid said. Evidently the magister hadn't expected the task of impregnating a woman to be so difficult, and had purchased this girl a bit too hastily. Instead of caring for Severa during her maternity, she spent all day bothering Danarius and caressing her mistress's loins to prepare her for the magister. "A ready wife is a fertile wife." She liked to say. Fenris had discovered this little nugget of information from overhearing the other slave's gossip through his bedroom door.

In any case, the mistress Severa did not use or even notice any of the other slaves. Fenris saw her very little, and knew almost nothing about her. She hadn't showed her magister teeth yet, perhaps too busy with the day-long task of "readying herself" for each night. But Fenris knew a tiger is still a tiger even when it sleeps. The nursemaid, Faustina was skittish even compared to most slaves. That seemed ominous.

"Damn damn damn!" Danarius stood, shouting. "Tell her I'll see her tonight, as always, and not to bother me while I'm in my study!"

"Yes master." she said. Fenris could hear the soft padding of her footsteps as she walked away.

* * *

He slid his hands under the mattress, searching for the familiar hidden crevice. He pulled the book out and grimaced as he dropped it loudly to the ground. He peeked out the door to see if any of the other slaves had heard the sound, but no one appeared to be awake.

It was a dog-eared copy of Tales of the Destruction of Thedas by Brother Genetivi. He'd hidden it under his breastplate when leaving Danarius' office one night. The idea of the magister reading such a thing was doubtful, which made it the perfect book to steal. No one seemed to notice it was missing, or at least no one had commented on it's disappearance.

He lit the candle with his last match, then spread out on the cot, opening the worn pages to the place he'd last left off. He was almost to the part about the Grey Wardens mounting their griffons when he heard a gasp.

He snapped the book shut and rose from his bed, his markings glowing defensively.

"I-I'm so sorry to disturb you." Cinaide said, closing the door behind her.

Fenris fell back to sit on the side of his bed, trying to still his shaking hands. "Why are you here?"

"I haven't seen you lately. I wondered if the magister had done something to you, or maybe you escaped." She said smoothing the sides of her frock. She looked genuinely concerned.

Fenris could feel his patience vanishing with every word. "You will get us both killed by being here. Cease this foolishness. Leave and do not return."

"Where did you learn to read?" She asked, ignoring his scorn.

"You are not listening. I do not want you here. I will not have your blood on my hands if the magister finds you here."

"It was her, wasn't it? The Champion taught you."

His hand wrapped around her throat of it's own volition. "Where did you learn about her?"

"The magister." She choked. He released her, turning away. "He often talked about you before you were captured. Even he couldn't make it sound anything but romantic." She sniffed. "She was very lucky."

"No." Fenris growled. "I was the lucky one."

"So it's true then? You were in love with the Champion of Kirkwall?"

"What of it? It makes no difference now. It may as well have never happened."

"I'm sure she doesn't feel that way."

"Do not presume to tell me how she feels." He sneered.

"Maybe she'll come to rescue you."

He turned on her. "Get out." He said, baring his teeth.

"I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to..."

"Get out!" He bared his teeth at her. She all but ran out the door.

He sank to the floor, pushing his hair out of his face. He'd considered this before, but hearing it aloud made it all the more real. He rocked on his heels. She wouldn't come. She couldn't. She was safe back in Kirkwall, drinking and playing cards at the Hanged Man or warming herself by the fire at her estate, awash in orange light. Those words were just the musings of an ignorant child.

When he finally stopped shaking he looked down to find that his palms were bleeding from his nails digging into his flesh.

He stashed his book and pulled the threadbare blanket over him. _She will not come._ He thought one last time before drifting off to sleep.


	52. Eat, Drink, Get Married

**Hawke**

"You cheated again." Aveline said to Isabela. "It's not any fun when you cheat."

"For you, maybe. I never grow tired of seeing that vein in your head about to burst."

"Poxy-tramp, I swear I'll..."

"Maybe you two should play something else." Hawke smiled. She was already feeling the effects of the grog. How Isabela could drink this stuff regularly was unbelievable, but it sure did the trick. "You know, before you eat each others' heads."

"You're so thoughtful Hawke." Merrill cooed, reeling. "You're such a good friend. Always watching out for all of us." She began braiding Hawke's short midnight hair. To her credit, Hawke did not even resist.

"You might not want to do that, Merrill." Anders snickered.

"Anders..." Hawke warned.

"Why not? Will it make her angry?"

"It makes her...something._" _He smirked. Everyone turned to look in their direction. Hawke punched him in the knee.

"Noted." Isabela grinned. "In bold black ink."

"I'm not playing with you anymore." Aveline said, obviously trying to change the subject.

"That's because you're a sore loser." Isabela said. "You know Hawke, I'm quite gifted in the art of Rivaini scalp massage. I can show you one day if you're up to it." Hawke rolled her eyes.

"I don't get it." Merrill said.

"Don't worry about it, daisy."

"It makes her wet, kitten." Isabela said.

Varric shook his head. "Stop trying to corrupt daisy."

"How strange. My hands are completely dry." Merrill said looking at her palms like they were foreign objects. "Well, I'd better not then. I don't want her to catch a cold. It's rather chilly tonight, isn't it?"

"Yes. One might even say it's a bit nipply." Isabela said, eyeing Hawke's breasts. She quickly folded her arms over her chest. Isabela laughed heartily.

"Moving right along!" Hawke said, giving Anders a look of aggravation. He chuckled, drawing her close and rubbing her shoulders. She allowed it, if only because it was so miserably cold. Anders was, as usual, intensely warm and his robe extraordinarily soft. She laid down in his lap, enjoying the sounds of merriment around her. He drew soothing patterns on her forehead with his index finger.

She closed her eyes for just a moment when she felt the bottle of grog slip into her hand. She sat up to take a deep swig. The taste of lime and cinnamon did not do much to mask the bitterness of the rum, but it was warm all the way down. There was another flavor Hawke could not distinguish, but when she asked Isabela, she told her it was a secret she would take to her grave.

She passed the bottle to Merrill. The elf probably didn't need any more, but at least she wasn't stammering or rambling on about nothing for once. Drunk Merrill was almost tolerable. Hawke resumed her spot in Anders lap.

"Hawke, you're sapping the energy of the party." Varric said. She caught Anders giving him a pleading look.

"If you had your way I'd spend every waking minute slaying dragons and rescuing fair maidens." She said.

"What can I say? I'm a sucker for the classics. But I'll settle for some clever conversation if you're up for it. I need someone who can rival my wit, keeps me on my toes."

She sat upright in Anders' lap. "Fine. How are you liking Antiva so far, Varric?"

"My kind of place, actually. Trade is good, the women are beautiful, it's been great for my networking. Why? Thinking of taking up roots here?"

"No, but I wouldn't mind having my honeymoon here." She heard Anders gasp and tighten his grip around her waist.

"What?" Aveline's turned toward her.

"Blondie, you dog, you! Someone owes me a story."

"You're getting married? Oh that's wonderful news!" Merrill exclaimed.

"Another one bites the dust." Isabela sighed.

Britta belched loudly. "I'm not wearing a dress. You'll have to kill me first."

"Charming." Aveline said fanning the air in front of her face and holding her nose. "Why didn't you tell me, Hawke?"

"Even I didn't know until a second ago." Anders said wide-eyed. "Do you really mean it, love?" He stared deeply into her eyes.

"No, I just enjoy watching you get your hopes up so I can crush your heart into a billion tiny pieces. I'm cruel like that." Hawke laughed. "Of course I do. Ridiculous man."

His mouth claimed hers in a fierce kiss. The deck of the ship erupted with claps and cheers. Anders lifted her in his arms and carried her to their cabin. Even Isabela seemed impressed by their volume, clapping Anders on the back for a job well done when they finally emerged.

**::nervous laugh:: I just want to uh, take the time to personally thank all the Fenris lovers for your continued and _unending_ patience regarding my story. Please don't hurt me! ::runs and hides:: **


	53. A Few Crows and a Hawke

**Anders**

He woke to the first chime of the chantry bell. _Bong._ His heart began to race. He saw movement out of the corner of his eye and turned to see a tumble of honey brown hair cross the tiny window.

_Bong._ Hawke stirred. Her eyes fluttered for just a second and then shut once more. Her breathing was soft and even, and her cheeks were still a tad flushed from the alcohol.

_Bong. _She pulled the pillow over her head and rolled over, making a small noise of protest, then was still again.

_Bong. _The point of no return. It was too late now to stop it. Every muscle in Anders' body tensed. Each agonizing second stretched out for hours. A bead of sweat dripped down his brow.

_Bong. _Hawke grumbled again and rolled over, burying her face in his chest. He folded his arms around her. It was the least he could do. _Bong. Bong._

_Shit._

The door crashed open, revealing two men in dark clothing. Hawke shot up, throwing herself out of bed and running toward her axe out of instinct. Across the way he could see Isabela in her smalls, fighting a losing battle with three other men. The rest of their friends were bound and gagged, lying prostrate in the middle of the floor. "Anders, run!" She said. But the black bag came down over his head.

He kicked and flailed as much as was what he could consider believable, but not enough to actually break free. "Hawke!" He yelled, hoping he sounded sufficiently frightened. He thought it would be more difficult, but a life on the run from the templars meant a life of lying and pretending. As such, it was a piece of cake.

He could hear Hawke grunting and shrieking. "Where are you taking him?" She screamed.

A familiar female voice said "To our client, of course. What happens to him after that is completely up to you."

"Who sent you?"

"Once we have received word from our contact in Kirkwall that you have returned, we will send him back to you. Unharmed if you leave now."

"Don't worry about me, Hawke." The men lifted him and carried him away.

"I'm not going to lose you."

"Then I suggest you and your friends set sail right away, yes?"

* * *

When the bag was lifted from his head he was back in the empty room. His hands were untied and a mug of ale appeared before him.

"You're surprisingly gentle for an assassin, did you know that? If I should ever find myself in need of feigning my own kidnapping again, I will ask for you personally, Suriel." He said to an elf in dark red leather armor. They'd chatted rather pleasantly in the carriage on the way back, but they both thought it would be a bad idea to remove the blindfold.

"You are Fereldan, no?" Suriel asked, leaning forward in his chair. Anders nodded. "Do most Fereldans believe the Crows are in the business of fake kidnappings or is it just you?"

Anders shrugged. "Hawke is a sharp woman, she is not easily fooled. I could not entrust the task to common sell-swords."

"For the price you are paying, I should expect those sell-swords to be anything but common."

"I needed professionals. The Crows have a reputation of getting the job done right."

"This is true." the elf agreed. "What truly vexes me, however, is why you didn't just have us eliminate this magister fellow instead? You are already paying us, after all."

"Not enough time. Too much left to chance."

Suriel seemed satisfied with this answer. He stood and shook Anders' hand. "Well, at any rate, Verónica will be back in a moment to discuss phase two of this plan of yours, and our payment. Best of luck to you, my friend."

Anders nodded. _And now we wait._


	54. Corvus Corax

**Hawke**

"You're cute when you're asleep, did you know that?" Isabela said. Hawke rubbed the back of her head where the attackers had struck her, it was painful to the touch.

"Of course. You would be the only one without a gag, wouldn't you?" Hawke shook her head. "How long was I out?" She stood, stretching.

"Two or three hours, I think. I dozed off myself for a while. This isn't exactly what I meant when I said I enjoy being tied up."

Hawke found a dagger lying on the ground and cut Isabela's hands and feet free, then started working to release the others.

"Who were those people?" Hawke asked.

"I was going to ask you the same thing."

"Varric?" Hawke cut off his gag.

"Well, they weren't amateurs, that's for sure." He said. "Maybe one of them left their card. I'll take a look around the ship, see what I can find."

"Thanks. I think I need to be alone for a while." Hawke said, slipping back into her cabin.

* * *

She tossed herself onto the bed and stared at the ceiling. It made no sense. Why Anders? It wasn't exactly common knowledge in Kirkwall that they were together. That would just give Meredith something else to threaten her with. Not to mention the nobility would have a fit if they found out the Champion of Kirkwall was sleeping with an apostate. Sure, some of them must have seen him entering her estate at all hours of the night, but all of her friends came and went as they pleased. She doubted anyone suspected anything serious.

Whoever had hired these men paid quite a bit, obviously. Garden-variety mercenaries wouldn't have stood a chance, even if they did catch her unawares. Their attire was plain, unmarked by any crest. Their fighting style was foreign to her, as she recalled from seeing them try to take down Isabela. They were skilled, that was clear, not your average sword-for-hire.

She tried to logically deduce the people who hated her enough to kidnap her lover. There were many, but how could any of them know she was in Antiva? Even Anders hadn't known about that. The only person outside her group of friends who she'd told was Meredith, and she had seemed almost delighted to see her go. Finally she would be able to go about her business without Hawke and company questioning her authority or causing chaos.

It was possible an opportunistic rival had seen her out and about the city, but who? And why had they chosen abduction rather than assassination? Surely it would have been a lot easier, especially in Antiva. Perhaps this wasn't an enemy, but a friend. A friend trying to protect her...

There was a soft knock at the door. Aveline came in and sat beside Hawke on the bed. "Are you alright?"

"Sure. I'm doing great. Mom and Carver are dead, Bethany's with the templars, Fenris was murdered by a Tevinter magister, my fiancee has been kidnapped by some mercenaries in a strange city, and I have no way of finding him. Never better."

"Hawke, this wasn't your fault."

"Wasn't it? I should know better by now. I've lost everyone I've ever been close to."

Aveline ignored the comment and the slight at their friendship. "Do you have a plan?"

"We're going to find the bastards who did this and put the fear of the Maker in them. I'm going to rescue Anders and continue to Minrathous as planned."

"Wouldn't it be wiser to go back to Kirkwall? For Anders' sake at least."

"Do you really think they'll keep their word? Do you trust them to send Anders back to me unscathed? We know nothing about these people. We don't even know who sent them. He could already be..." She felt tears beginning to well up. "We need to find him, Aveline."

She nodded. Aveline knew better than anyone what it was like to lose someone, and perhaps she also knew better than to argue with Hawke when she was like this. "Varric said he has something to show you. He's in his cabin when you're ready. I'm here for you, you know." Hawke reached out and grasped her friend's hand, gave it a little squeeze and then let go. It was the most she could muster at this point.

* * *

"Aveline said you wanted to see me." Hawke said as she stepped inside Varric's cabin. Bianca was laying in bed next to him. Her lath was perched on the pillow while the covers were drawn over her tiller. To keep her warm, probably. Disturbed did not even begin to describe Hawke's feelings about the scene. Fortunately, Varric was still fully dressed.

"You alright?" He asked.

"Why does everyone keep asking me that? I'm no damsel in distress. I'm going to find Anders and we can move on with our lives like none of this ever happened."

"Alright, alright. Just making sure. Anyway, I found this." He got up and handed her a brooch. "I don't recognize the insignia."

"Oh, me, me! Pick me!" said Isabela, barging in and snatching the brooch from Hawke's hands. "It's the heraldry of the Antivan Crows."

"They make brooches for that?" Varric chuckled.

"Why not? Assassins need to pin their cloaks shut too."

"I don't suppose they bought it at the Antivan Crow Museum gift shop." Varric said.

"This isn't funny. If the Crows are involved, we have an entire city to search and no time to do it. We have an answer, but now I have more questions than before. Where do we find them? Why hire Crows to kidnap someone? Who paid them?"

"Maybe it was Danarius. If I were him, I'd be keeping an eye on you as well."

"Danarius doesn't know about Anders. No one does. They tied the rest of you up and took him specifically, as though it were planned ahead of time. They know he's important to me. I have no doubt that the true client wants me to think that he's involved, however."

"Hawke, have you considered the possibility that _you_ paid them?"

"Very funny, Varric."

"I'm serious. Is there anyone who wants you to go back to Kirkwall more than Anders? You said it yourself, Crows don't do abductions."

Hawke began grinding her teeth. The idea was logically sound, but she refused to believe it. "That's absurd."

"Think about it. If someone who hated you hired assassins to keep you out of their business, it would have been just as easy and costly to have them kill you instead. Whoever it is, they're no enemy."

"I already know that, but that doesn't mean Anders did it."

"Who else then?"

"I have many friends across Thedas." Hawke snapped. "It could be anyone."

"Crows aren't cheap." Isabela said. "Not so pricey for the Champion of Kirkwall, however."

"If Anders hired them, it's safe to say he's probably somewhere nearby. He hasn't had much time to himself lately since he's been betrothed. Do you know how to find the Crows, Isabela?" Varric asked.

"Dangerous men with daggers and interesting accents? Do you even need to ask?"

"There's no way!" Hawke shouted. "He doesn't even have access to my accounts!"

"Hawke..." Varric put his hand on her shoulder.

"Shut up!" Hawke yanked herself away. "Anders isn't involved in this except as a captive. I won't hear it. This is my fiancee we're talking about. He loves me."

"Probably more than you know, sweet thing. Especially if he's the client."

"Not another word!" Hawke put her hand up and began to leave. "I will not entertain any more talk of this unless it's to tell me how we find the Crows."

* * *

"There." Isabela pointed.

"A feather? On the ancestors' balls, you have got to be kidding me. They couldn't come up with anything more original than that?"

"You should tell them that. I'm sure they'll appreciate your input." Hawke said sarcastically. She pushed open the door to the tavern, and was immediately greeted by a pair of bare, swinging breasts. "Oh, hello." She blushed. The whore made a face of disgust and walked away, Isabela with grabby hands in tow.

"I really hope Anders isn't here." Aveline said, refusing to make eye contact with anyone in the room. "And if he is, Maker please let it be against his will."

"Even Blondie's not stupid enough to hire assassins in a brothel, Hawke would have a fit."

"You think I'm more likely to be angry about the whores than the betrayal?"

"No, but wouldn't it just be the icing on the shit-cake?" Varric asked.

Hawke crossed the room, being careful not to stare at a whore performing fellatio on a fat man under the table while he ate a drumstick. The bartender looked up at her and stepped out from behind the counter to shake her hand. She eyed the hand suspiciously and decided to bow instead. She was mulling over what to say when Isabela stepped in.

"We're looking for a man who can get things done right." Isabela winked.

The bartender raised his eyebrows and blinked several times before nodding. "I have many such men in my employ. May I recommend someone for you and your friend?"

Isabela shook her head slowly. "Only the best will do. We will pay extra."

"_Rigoberto!_" The bartender shouted.

An unusually tall man with several ear piercings stood up from a couch nearby. He had a long beard that was tied off in several sections with red ribbon. He reached for Isabela's hand and kissed it, then turned to Hawke, repeating the gesture.

"These lovely young women would like something special." The man nodded and beckoned for them to follow into one of the rooms.

He led them into a room with a huge red bed and candles all around it. He proceeded to light them and for a moment Hawke thought that he had misunderstood their intentions, or maybe Isabela had taken advantage of the situation and requested this, instead. He motioned for them to have a seat on the bed.

* * *

"Well that was completely pointless." Isabela pouted emerging from the room. Rigoberto was indeed a Crow, and also a whore. He had offered both types of services to them at a discount. "You could have at least let _me_ have some fun."

"We have a list of thirty establishments in the area that we need to search. We don't have the time."

"Thirty?" Isabela whined. "That's too many Hawke. What if he's not even at one of them?"

"Then we'd better get started. I just know he's somewhere nearby. I have a feeling."


	55. Misty, Water-Colored Memories

**Fenris**

He slipped his arm through the restraints and the cuffs at on either side of the table. The other slave, Linus if his memory served, tightened the straps and fastened them, then buckled the belt around his bare torso and the straps for his thighs and ankles. Finally he placed a thick strip of leather in Fenris' mouth, for him to bite down on when the pain got unbearable.

Now he just had to wait, and that was almost as excruciating as the lyrium therapy itself.

The room was deep underground, to keep it cool probably. There was a fat tome in the center of the room on a pedestal, with two other pedestals on either side. A few dozen candles lit that area, but were not enough to light the room.

Linus glanced over at Fenris with what could only be pity. He had been there the last time he had to undergo this treatment. Fenris ignored him. He didn't need pity. He needed his memories.

Finally he could faintly hear voices down the hall, and the clicking of feet on the granite floor as the magisters approached. There was some hale laughter before they entered the room. And then he saw their faces behind the pedestals. Danarius, Severa and another magister named Lucius who Fenris knew nothing about. They stared at his exposed body, making him want to cover himself.

"Remarkable." Severa said tracing his markings with her eyes.

"This will be a lengthy process." Danarius frowned. "We have no time to waste. Let us begin with 'Adunare nostra potentate.'"

They chanted in unison "Adunare nostra potentate."

"Spiritus infernum ducit." Danarius said.

"Ostendendam viam." They said.

They lifted their hands and pointed at him. Tendrils of purple electricity arced from their fingers and filled him, drawing him toward them.

It felt as though his skin was trying to break free from his body. His back arched into their pull. The braces dug into his flesh, the only things holding him in place. He heard screaming - his own, probably - and the cackling laughter of a cruel woman.

* * *

They raised her up on their shoulders and cheered. There were millions of elves, all stretching to touch the hem of her cape, to look upon her face. Fenris could scarcely recognize her at first, but when she smiled he knew it was her.

The ground disappeared from under him as he was swept up by the crowd himself, lifted high into the sky in exultation. He reached out to grab Hawke's hand and she grinned. She shouted something to him, but he couldn't make out the words. They were cheering his name. They adored him. He laughed.

The elves disappeared and they found themselves floating down a river next to each other. The cool water soothing his tired muscles. They were naked, but neither of them cared. They had earned this. They had earned each other.

The late afternoon sun peeked through the branches of trees here and there. In the distance he thought he saw a bright red cardinal land in it's nest. Hawke looked over at him sleepily, lacing her fingers through his and drawing him nearer to her. He closed his eyes and allowed himself to relax as they drifted.

"You look happy." She chuckled.

"I am." He said, gently squeezing her hand in his.

* * *

"Efforment carnes ad voluntati meae!" Danarius screamed.

"Quia ego sum arbitrator." The others chanted.

"Ego sum magus!"

His body seized in time with their words. He felt as though his blood had turned to cold daggers in his veins. He saw flashes of white light as he slipped in and out of consciousness.

"Cantare ad nos, lyrium."

"Canticum vera potestas."

* * *

He pushed her through the door, and almost as an afterthought, closed it behind him. All of this without ever breaking the kiss. He never wanted to stop kissing her, not on purpose. Her fingers slipped under his waistband, grabbing frantically for what was beneath. He closed his eyes and she immediately tripped backward over a cape that had been tossed carelessly onto the floor, ripping it in the process.

"I hope that was not important." He said, extending his hand to help her back up. She grinned and bent to retrieve it. She looked at it wistfully for a moment and then tore a long swatch of fabric off the bottom.

She reached to take his hand in hers and looked up at him for approval. He cocked an eyebrow. She traced his wrist with her fingertips, drawing invisible lines but being careful not to touch his markings, then fastened the cool red fabric around it. She lifted his hand to press a kiss in his palm, more gently than he ever imagined possible.

He cupped her cheek in his hand. He knew what this meant, this gift. The first gift. The one he cherished the most.

"Hawke." he whispered, but he had no words, nothing to give her in return. There was nothing he could say that could match this small, tender gesture of hers.

She smiled and kissed him once again, as if to say that it was enough for her.

* * *

"Adunare nostra potentate." The chant began again.

He couldn't see. The world was a haze of swirling brown clouds. It magnified the intensity of the pain. He vomited, spitting the leather strip out. The magisters paused only a second or two for Linus to replace the filthy thing in his mouth. Then they continued.

* * *

"Do not ask me this, Hawke. Do not make me do this." He begged.

"You're a free man, Fenris. I won't make you do anything. I simply asked you a question. But I would really like to know the answer. That is, if you'd tell me."

And what did he have to lose by telling her? At worst, she would reject him and he could finally have closure, finally be free of this longing. At best, he could have her. And that was what he really wanted, wasn't it?

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. It was time.

He moved toward her and grabbed a fistful of her hair, pulling her into a savage kiss. Her lips parted receptively, taking in his tongue. She curled her arms around his neck, killing the gap, running her fingers through his hair.

When he finally pulled away, her eyes were still closed. He pulled the necklace from his pocket and fastened it around her neck, running his fingers over the delicate chain. He was right. It was perfect for her. He bent to kiss her neck.

"I love you." He said, his mouth against her throat. "Forgive me for being such a fool." He pulled away to look into her face.

Her eyes fell to stare at their feet. "I'm afraid you'll leave me again. I don't know if I can handle it if you do. Please tell me you'll stay."

Fenris smiled, stroking her cheek. He didn't know what kind of life he could possibly give her, but this much he could offer.

"Hawke, I'm not going anywhere."


	56. Coming Clean

**Anders**

He could see from the window in his room that the ship was still docked, but it appeared to be empty. There was no candlelight coming out of the cabins, no one walking along the deck. Something was wrong. He wondered if she was onto his plan. He wouldn't put it past her to have figured it all out on her own. He hoped Isabela just needed more time to restock.

He snuffed out the candle, and climbed into the bed. It was the first night in over three years that he would sleep without Hawke beside him. It felt wrong, especially considering the circumstances. Outside his window he could hear a pair of cats fighting or perhaps mating furiously. Downstairs he could hear the clanking of mugs and footsteps, but it was still unusually quiet for a bar.

Sleep would not come no matter how he tried. He found himself tossing and turning. The poor quality of blankets made him itch, but it was too drafty without them. He longed to feel Hawke next to him, to hear her quiet breathing and feel the warmth of her skin on his. He wondered if she was missing him as well. He knew she would take this as a personal failure, but it was for her own good, wasn't it?

He felt something crawling on his arm and looked down to find a giant, greasy roach. He gave a small yelp. If there was any hope of sleep coming to him before, it was gone now.

He got dressed and padded downstairs to the bar. The barkeep poured him a mug of stout and placed it in front of him. It was a bit hoppy for his tastes, but he nodded in appreciation anyway. This man was not Corff, he did not offer a listening ear or much of anything above the bare minimum, but Anders was grateful for his company anyway.

It took four or five mugs, but he finally relaxed a little. He was about to try his hand at sleep again, when the door crashed open.

He couldn't see much of the new patrons from where he was sitting, but he could make out Varric's shadow and Isabela's shrill laughter. He pressed himself into the shadows, hoping they hadn't seen him already. They approached the bar from the other side.

"You'll have to forgive me, but I have very little patience left, and no time for niceties." Hawke said, annoyed. "I've been looking everywhere for a blonde man in fancy clothing, possibly being escorted by a band of cutthroats. Where is he?"

"I have no idea what you're..."

Hawke pushed all the dishes to the floor and reached across the bar, grabbing the man's shirt up in her fists. "Stop playing games. There's a very chatty man outside who says he was here earlier today. Are you going to talk, or do I have to smash the place up a bit?" She gestured to Isabela who smashed a chair into smithereens.

"Do you think I'm afraid of a few whores and a half-man? Go ahead, burn the place to the ground. I have nothing to say to you."

"Really? That's interesting. Perhaps you'd be more talkative if you knew who you were dealing with. Tell me, what do you know about the Champion of Kirkwall?" He was very quiet for a moment, and then with a tilt of the head Hawke let him go.

Anders sank down under the bar, his knees were suddenly very wobbly even if he wanted to stand.

"Give it up Anders, I know you're here." She said.

He took a deep breath. It was all over now. Mortified, he stood and gave a sheepish little wave. "H-hello love. Fancy seeing you here."

She smiled, but there was no warmth in it. She strode up to him and grabbed him by the wrist, pulling him along with her out the door and into the streets. This was going to be an even longer night than he expected.

* * *

Anders sank into a wooden chair. Hawke was outside the cabin having a conversation with Isabela. The waiting was killing him just as surely as she would whenever she decided to enter. He'd been sloppy, stupid, and it might cost him everything.

Finally she broke away and walked into the room, pulling a chair up to sit in. He was having difficulty reading her features. He opened his mouth to speak but she put her hand up to stifle it before it even began.

After a couple more moments of agonizing silence she spoke. "Why?" She asked, her voice cracking.

Anders looked at his feet. "Because I was afraid of losing you."

"You put a hit out on me because you were afraid of losing me."

"Please understand..."

"I don't want to understand." she said simply. "Tell me, how much did this betrayal cost me? I want to be done with this bloody business and move on with my life."

He swallowed loudly. "Nothing." She raised an eyebrow, urging him to continue. "I...it's a long story."

"We've got all night." She said.

Anders sighed. "Alright, I'll tell you. Everything. But promise me one thing, Hawke."

"You're in no position to make demands of me."

"Please just promise me you'll listen and wait until I'm finished to yell at me." He said. She furrowed her brow, but bowed her head in agreement. "It started about a year ago. Justice was becoming...unruly, even more so than usual. I was losing myself to him. I thought it was only a matter of time before he took control. But I remembered a story about a mage entering the fade and killing a demon to help a possessed little boy in Fereldan.

"Anyway, this ritual took a substantial amount of lyrium. As you know, lyrium is quite expensive, so I got to work making potions and selling them to fund my project..."

"And you didn't think to ask me for money? You didn't think I'd help you?"

"Let me finish." He said. "But this ritual is very dangerous. Justice is not like a regular demon, he's a lot stronger. There was no telling whether or not I could actually succeed. There's a chance I'd have ended up tranquil or dead anyway, and I didn't even know if there was anything left of the old me to save. If I failed, I would have needed to die. I didn't want to give you false hope. So I kept it a secret."

Hawke rubbed her forehead, trying to take all this in. "More deceit. It seems to be your modus operandi these days. That explains where you got the money, but how did you intend on performing this ritual if you spent it all on assassins?"

"Ah." Anders said, pulling on his collar. "Well, it wasn't exactly necessary anymore."

"What do you mean?"

He laughed nervously. "So, do you remember that time you almost killed me? Well, that changed Justice into something more manageable, so to speak."

"I knocked some sense into him?"

"Erh no, not exactly. See, because I forgave you for nearly snapping me in half, my ideals changed, and it turned Justice into...well, turned isn't really the right word either. You see, Justice still exists, so does Vengeance, but it created a third form more powerful than the other two, called Clemency. And he's alright, as far as I can tell."

"I thought something changed about you."

"Yeah, and I have you to thank, as usual." He smiled weakly. "You saved me. I owe you everything."

"They must not teach proper gratitude in the Circle." She said sadly.

"I only did it to protect you."

She recoiled as if he had struck her. "I thought you loved me."

"I do!" He said, much too loudly. "You must know that! I love you with all my heart. I would do anything for you. Anything! Name it and it's done."

"Anything except trust me."

"I do trust you! I trust you with my life!"

"You have been keeping secrets from me for over a year now, each one more insidious than the last. I don't even know who _you_ are."

He felt his eyes begin to flood. He knelt down in front of her, pushing the hair from her face. He smoothed the creases in her brow trying to smile. It wasn't the idea of losing her that was breaking his heart, but the idea that he could have caused the pain he saw in her eyes right then. He blinked, letting a teardrop stream down his nose.

"Then perhaps some introductions are in order. I am Anders. The real Anders. I'm an idiot, but I'm your idiot, and I love you unconditionally." He kissed her forehead and smiled. "And you are my future wife: the strongest, smartest and prettiest woman in Thedas. Well met, my love."

"I'm sorry, I can't be near you right now. I will be in Isabela's cabin if you need me." She sniffed and looked away. "But please, try not to need me."

"Hawke," he said hoarsely. "I always need you." But she was already gone.


	57. Schleets

**Hawke**

They spent another week and a half in Antiva at Isabela's behest. She insisted it would do Hawke some good, but it wasn't the same. The appeal was gone.

Anders vied for her forgiveness at every turn. He didn't seem to understand, she had already forgiven him, it was her trust that was broken.

Still, he never gave up, and she eventually began letting her guard down, little by little. It was difficult not to when she saw how excited he got each time she smiled. He took every excuse to hold her hand or stroke her cheek. It really did feel like they were courting again, she wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not, but she allowed it to happen. She continued to stay in the Captain's quarters, however, just to be safe.

The night before they left the port he stayed up with her after everyone else had retreated to their cabins. She stared out onto the Amaranthine ocean over the bow. He pulled her into his chest to warm her, placing a small kiss on the crook of her neck and enveloping her in his arms. It felt right. He rested his forehead on her shoulder.

"Have I told you that I love you recently?" He whispered in her ear.

"Only every couple of hours."

"Oh? Well in that case we're past due, aren't we?" He laughed, then nuzzled her. "I love you so very much, Hawke. You are the glue that holds me together." She sighed deeply. "You don't need to say anything. I just want you to know that I'm sorry. I was such a fool."

"Yes." She said simply.

He snorted. "Splendid. We're in agreement, then. Now the only question is what you intend to do about it. Do you want to punish me? There's quite a bit of rope around here. You could lash me to the mast, or maybe you want to spank me? I will not object even a little."

"For the last time, I forgive you." She chuckled.

"Are you sure? I've been such a bad boy. I'll never learn my lesson if you don't discipline me."

"So I should be worried that you'll hire more assassins to spirit you away one morning?"

"Oh, I don't know about that, but I _am_ a mage. We're dangerous, you know. You have no idea what kind of impish treachery I'm capable of when left to my own devices."

"That may be, but I'm too tired to chastise you. I should get to bed."

Anders nuzzled further into her neck. "Here's an idea, just hear me out: you could come to bed with me tonight. I promise I won't sleep-fondle you any more than Isabela does."

"Anders..."

"Alright, no sleep-fondling." He shrugged. "You don't know what you're missing, though." He offered his hand. After a moment or two she rolled her eyes and accepted it, against her better judgment. He bent over to lift her up into his arms in a fit of kicks and giggles and took her back to his cabin, to their cabin.

* * *

Isabela insisted that her crew do all the work around the ship after they left Antiva. No work meant it was boring, and boredom invariably led to drunkenness in their group.

"You are _tanked_, Anders." Hawke laughed. His face was drooping and he swayed a little, she'd never seen him visibly drunk before. Justice never let him before. It was quite entertaining, actually.

"You are sexy, Hawke." he slurred, pinching her bottom. She gave him a dirty look. "What? I thought we were stating the obvious."

"And I didn't think it was possible, but somehow that makes you even more libidinous than usual. I have to say, I'm a little impressed."

"Does that mean you'll take advantage of me in my compromised state? Oh, please say you will." he batted his eyelashes.

"We can all hear you, you know." Aveline frowned.

"Will you shut up? Not all of us are stuffy prudes like you!" Isabela said, smacking the guard-captain in the arm.

"Prude is the last thing anyone would accuse you of being." She said.

"Well, I think it's sweet." Merrill said.

"Show of hands, who's surprised? No one? I thought as much." Britta said, taking another long swig from her own personal bottle of grog. Merrill seemed undeterred by the ribbing.

"I don't know how you did it, Blondie, but you did."

"What are you talking about, Varric?" Anders stopped pawing at Hawke's shirt for a moment to look at the dwarf.

"Somehow you managed to worm your way back into Hawke's good graces. You should sell your secrets, men all over Thedas would pay good money for them."

"It's because I have a big..."

"...heart!" Hawke laughed nervously. "Yes, that's it. A big, gooey heart. He's a softy, you know. Don't let the dangerous apostate act fool you."

"Do tell!" Isabela purred. "Just how big is this 'heart' of yours Anders?"

"That's not what..."

"...yes it is, _darling_." She snapped. "And with that, I think it's past time I put him to bed."

"Mmm, I rather like the sound of that." Anders said, standing to follow her.

* * *

She closed the door behind them, and turned to look at Anders. He was already out of his clothes with a goofy grin on his face.

He began trying to relieve her of her clothing, and nearly brought himself to tears trying to figure out how to take her pants off. She snickered.

"Don't help or anything." He said.

"I don't intend to."

"This is more complicated than a Dalish puzzle-box. Did you...are you wearing magical pants? I can't...Hawke, I just...blast!" He shouted. He'd gotten his fingers stuck in the laces and was now struggling to break free. "What did you do to me woman?! Oh Maker, what kind of blood magic is this?" He sank to the ground, defeated. He had the saddest look on his face and his fingers were still caught in the knot. Hawke was cracking up. "Help me Hawke, they're starting to turn purple." He whined.

"But it's far more entertaining when you do it."

"Oh fine! Laugh it up, will you! At least I didn't make a deal with a pants-demon!" He shouted.

"A pants-demon." She repeated, unsure if he was being serious or not.

"Oghren used to call them schleets, but I know them for what they truly are."

"And that is?"

"Powerful demons that possess ordinary pants." She snorted. "This is serious, Hawke! They eat your eyeballs!"

"Well, if I see any pants-demons I'll be sure to steer clear." She began helping him untangle his hand.

"It's too late for me, save yourself. Oh." He said, flexing his newly freed fingers. "You're good, aren't you?"

"The best." she chuckled, tossing his arm over her shoulder and lifting him into the bed. "Now get some rest."

"Yes, that's probably for the best." He said, yawning. Evidently his brush with death had taken the last of his energy. "Goodnight, love."

"Goodnight, Anders. Don't let the schleets get you."

"Don't even joke about that, Hawke."


	58. Dream On

**Fenris**

He woke to find himself on his cot, his body still screaming from the ritual. Every breath he took felt like fire in his lungs. He sat up and instantly retched, but there was nothing except bile left in him. Whoever had returned him to his room at least had the foresight to move the chamberpot in range. He tried to stand but instead he only passed out.

* * *

There was emerald green as far as he could see. Trees that had been undisturbed for centuries stood tall and proud. A brook babbled softly nearby, punctuated with the sound of frogs croaking and birds chirping merrily. The only other sounds were his solitary footsteps in the earth. A deer bent its neck to drink, unafraid of Fenris. A pair of squirrels chased each other playfully up a tree.

He recognized this place. He'd been here before. Another life, perhaps. In a dream. He went where his feet took him, a practiced path through the wood, bending under low hanging branches and avoiding roots until he came across the largest tree he'd ever seen. The branches were dotted with pink blossoms with heart-shaped petals. He knew this tree. It was important.

He walked around it's perimeter, running his hands along the smooth bark. It took him longer than he imagined to fully circle it. His fingers found a ridge that wasn't there before. A seam.

He pushed his fingers through the seam and pulled, it opened like a door, just big enough for him to cross through without having to stoop. He stepped inside to find stairs leading down into the earth, far past the trees deep roots.

He descended the stairs slowly. When he reached the bottom he found a massive grotto with hanging moss and clear blue water. And a canoe with oars, seemingly waiting for him.

He climbed into the canoe and began to row. He felt he knew the way to wherever he was going. Rays of sunshine broke through the crust above him. It shone through the water, revealing curious fish come up to see the boat. He passed under a small waterfall, wetting his armor thoroughly, but it didn't bother him. The water was cool, and this place was quite humid.

Outside the cave there was an azure sea, calm and serene, and a beach with white sand. He paddled along, searching the coastline for anything unusual. It was a while before he saw it, but there it was, a small village built around the trees. It was primitive looking, but it seemed to be inhabited at least.

He pulled the canoe on shore. A little elven girl and her brother were building sandcastles. A topless Kossith woman was stringing her bow in front of her home.

The further he walked into the village, the more strange it seemed. No one so much as glanced in his direction. Maybe that wouldn't be so unusual for anyone else, but he was accustomed to people staring at him when he passed by, either with curiosity or fear of his unusual appearance. It wasn't that they were avoiding looking at him, either. It almost seemed as though they didn't see him at all.

"Ah. Another dream." he said. "What's next, I wonder?"

The village was simple. Hawke would call it quaint. The cottages were made with mud bricks and thatched straw, and the people who lived there seemed content with just existing. Baking bread, hanging their laundry on lines, buying fruit from their one toothless merchant.

He turned a corner and found himself staring at the bottom of a wooden statue, taller than any of the houses in the village. His eyes followed the carved form upward. It depicted two warriors fighting side by side. As he looked closer he saw that one of the faces bore his likeness, and the other Hawke's. She, with her enormous axe, and he with – oddly enough - a Blade of Mercy, etched in great detail.

And then he was there. The qunari were driving at them from either side. The sun glinted off her axe. She bellowed over them a battlecry so fierce a chill ran up his spine. Blood spattered across his face.

They came at him, and he felled them with sure swipes, effortlessly. He could hear Isabela snicker, and the crackle and release of a magic fireball.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw Hawke turn to him, her lips drawn in a brazen smirk. She winked. His heart skipped. Her cape flew up as she whirled past him, blocking a blow that would have surely killed him and beheaded the foe right there.

"You stole my kill, Hawke." He joked.

She grinned. "Pride is for the living, Fenris."

* * *

"Good morning."

He stretched, rubbing his eyes. "Hawke?"

Cinaide laughed. "No, no one so important as that. Sit up. You must eat. You've been sleeping for a very long time."

"Cinaide? I told you never to come here. The magister..."

"...ordered me to come take care of you. Now hush." She said, lifting his back and propping another pillow beneath him.

"I highly doubt the magister has any concern for my health."

"True enough." she smiled. "And yet, here I am." She handed him a glass of water. "Perhaps he has need of you for something."

"I suppose I should be grateful that it is you he sent." It was the closest thing to gratitude he was able to give. In truth, the girl irked him. She was too incautious, felt too much, spoke too freely, and didn't take no for an answer. Hawke was the same way, but Hawke wasn't a slave. Hawke wasn't a teenage girl. Hawke wasn't helpless.

She gave him a shallow bowl of soup. "You were thrashing in your sleep. You do that a lot. I hope you didn't reopen your wounds." She said. "When you're done eating, I will have a look."

He gave her a weary expression but was too tired to argue.

"What did you dream about?"

"That is not your concern." He said bluntly. He tasted some of the broth. It was bland and tepid, but he was starving so he gulped the entire bowl down ravenously.

"Hmm. You must have been hungry." she said, pulling the covers off him, letting in freezing cold air. He was relieved to find that he was, in fact, dressed. She reached to lift his shirt and he pushed her hand away.

"Do not touch me." He said.

"How do you expect me to look at your injuries if..."

"Do you see any blood on these garments? On the blanket? Clearly they have not reopened."

"But they could be infected."

"I have no fever. There is no pus leaking through my clothes. Are you satisfied? May I retain my propriety?"

She sighed. "Alright, as you wish." She gathered up the dishes and placed them on a metal tray. "I'll leave you be."

"Before you go," He said. "How long have I been in bed?"

Cinaide blinked. "Hardly relevant in the grand scheme of things, but about two weeks. Why?"

"No particular reason."


	59. Dolphins

**Anders**

"Do you see that?" Isabela asked Hawke. She squinted her eyes and craned her head to see where she was pointing. "You don't see them? They're right there."

"Yes! What is that?"

"_That, _sweet thing, is a school of dolphins."

"Really?" She gasped. "I've always wanted to see one."

"Hmm." Isabela smiled. "Well, they're coming our way. It's good luck to have dolphins following the ship, you know. They say the natives of Seheron can tame the dolphins like horses and ride them from island to island on their backs. I'd rather like to try that someday."

"I could definitely see you riding a dolphin. It's the only beast worthy of you."

"Oh, I wouldn't say that. There are plenty of worthy beasts on this ship alone I have yet to bridle and bit." She winked. "Oh look, we have company."

"Good morning." Anders said pleasantly, kissing Hawke's forehead.

Hawke smiled, throwing her arms around his neck. "Look Anders, dolphins! Aren't they amazing?" She said pointing. She looked positively gleeful. He couldn't help but smile.

"Magnificent creatures, actually. It's because they eat their breakfasts. They don't just leave it to get cold on a tray next to the bed like some people do."

"Anders..." She rolled her eyes.

"It's true! Just ask anyone. No dolphin worth their salt would start their day without a good helping of tuna. If you ate half as well as they did, you'd be swimming alongside the ship yourself."

"If I had my pick of any fish in the sea I'd never complain about breakfast again."

"Well maybe you should hail one over and ask him to trade. I'm sure dolphins would love to try some of your delicious salt beef."

"Or maybe we should just toss you overboard and let you catch a meal suitable for your champion."

"That's not very nice. Dolphins are nice, friendly creatures. Keep talking like that and they'll shun you from their utopian society."

"Perish the thought."

He put his hands on his hips, becoming the healer again. "Seriously, Hawke. Eat your damn breakfast. Your ribs are still showing a little." He said poking her through her shirt.

"Yow!" She squealed. "Ugh, fine, bring it here."

"If I catch you feeding those dolphins I swear I'll..."

"Would you rather feed it to me yourself? Maybe you can chew it up and regurgitate it into my mouth like a baby bird."

His eyes softened. "I think I'll pass on that one." He chuckled, leaving to retrieve her food.

He noticed a pair of discarded smallclothes next to the bed, he bent to pick them up and when he stood again he found himself face to face with Isabela.

"Captain." He said.

She sat down on the edge of the bed, crossing her legs. "Look, I know it's none of my business, but Hawke is my friend. For that reason alone I have to ask. When do you intend to tell her?" She gave him a penetrating glare.

"Tell her what, exactly?" He snorted.

"You can't kid a kidder." She said in a tired voice.

"Yes well, be that as it may, I'm still sure I have no idea what you're..."

"I know about Fenris, Anders." She frowned.

"Varric..."

"...said nothing." she finished for him.

"How?"

"I'm a woman of many talents." She shrugged. "That's besides the point. You have to tell her, you realize that, right?"

He slid down the wall to sit on the floor, palming his forehead. "I can't."

"You can't or you won't?"

"A little of both." He sighed. "The foundation of our relationship isn't exactly stable right now."

"Yes, the fake kidnapping thing. I remember. Brilliant idea, that."

"If she finds out now, she'll think I did it all for my own selfish reasons."

"She will find out." she said. "It's only a matter of when. Better for her to hear it from your mouth, at least then there's a chance she'll forgive you. She does love you, for whatever reason."

"I know."

"So what's the issue?"

"There's a chance I can still stop her."

"Maybe." She said. "There's also a chance you'll just keep making things worse. But I swear if you bring any more assassins aboard my ship I won't hesitate to keelhaul you."

"Please don't tell her." He begged.

"It's not my place." she sighed. "I've said my part, now you need to decide whether Hawke deserves the truth or not."

"That's not fair." He objected.

"Life rarely is." She said. "Whatever you intend to do you'd better decide soon. We'll be docking in Minrathous in about a week's time. Now, I think I'll go find Hawke and her dolphins. This conversation has been so very dreary."

"Can you bring her this? I need to think on what you've said."

Isabela looked like she was about to protest but she took the tray anyway. Before she left, she turned and said "You should talk to Varric. He's a part of this, too."

He nodded and she closed the door behind her.

She was right, of course, but how could he tell her? How could he make her see that everything had been for her sake without insulting her pride or breaking her already tenuous trust of him? Would she truly believe this is what Fenris had asked him to do? He knew what it would look like from her standpoint. It was true he had no desire to drive her into his arms, but his intentions had been completely pure.

Perhaps Varric would have some idea of what to say.

* * *

He entered Varric's cabin to find him huddled over one of his books, quill in hand. He perked his head as Anders approached.

"Have a seat, Blondie." He said, not turning toward him.

He sat on a chair next to the desk, twiddling his thumbs in his lap. Varric scribbled out a couple more words and closed the book, turning toward his guest.

He took one look at Anders and groaned. "You're thinking about telling her."

"How did you know?"

"It's written all over your face." He said. "The look of certain destruction. I have to say, it suits you."

"Thanks." Anders glowered at him.

"Truthfully, I don't know what to say to her. For all her reason and understanding, Hawke goes a little batshit where her friends are involved. We let the elf sacrifice his freedom for her and then lied about it, twice. She's not going to take it well no matter what we say."

"I appreciate your support, but let's call a spade a spade, I stand to lose a whole lot more than you do."

"True, but let it never be said that Varric Tethras isn't a team player." He said.

"That is somewhat comforting." He said.

"It's what I do. So when did you want to tell her? It's your call."

Anders drew his knees up to his chest, teetering on the chair with dread. He felt like he might vomit. He thought about Hawke, so excited to see dolphins for the first time. She was happy this morning. He didn't want to take that away from her just yet. "Let me just have one more day with her."

"Understood." Varric nodded.

"Thank you, Varric."

* * *

Isabela was trying to teach Hawke knot-work. He was amused to find that she was all thumbs when it came to even the simplest knot. She got the entire thing tangled more than once, but she was diligent about it, sticking her tongue out of the side of her mouth in concentration.

"Mind if I borrow my fiance for a bit?"

Isabela gave him a questioning glance, but agreed. "I'm taking that with me." She grabbed the rope out of Hawke's hands. "I know what you two will do with it the minute I turn my back on you, and I demand to be allowed to watch."

Hawke sucked her teeth and waved her off.

"Hello, love." He said, pulling her into his embrace, hoping it didn't sound as grave as he felt.

"Hello, yourself." She said, smiling. "You had something you needed to talk about?"

"Nothing particular, I just wanted some time alone with you. Is that alright?"

"Of course." She took his hand. "Is something wrong?"

He shook his head. "Where are your dolphins? Did you get bored of them already?"

"More like they got bored of following us. Or maybe they're feeding. At any rate, I lost track of them. A shame, too. It was rather exciting."

He smirked and took her hand to kiss it. "There are other ways to excite you, if my memory serves."

"Oh? You had some ideas to that effect?"

"My love, I am full of ideas. Presently, all of them involve my delving tongue between your thighs."

She gasped, feigning bashfulness. "Anders, you are as crude as you are insatiable!" She climbed into his lap.

"Mmm, but you love it." He said in a husky voice, biting her ear.

"It certainly has it's advantages." She chuckled. "But it's you I love."

And when she looked at him that way, he actually believed it. That she would still love him tomorrow, a month from tomorrow, forever.

"That's it! I can't take it any longer! Back to the cabin with you before I mount you right here on the quarterdeck!" He said. It wasn't time to think about what tomorrow might bring, for now Hawke was his. For now, they were in love. Maybe it wouldn't last, but as long as it did, he would make every second count.

* * *

Anders propped himself up on his elbow next to her. He was wearing a very cheeky grin. He had every right. Hawke was thoroughly pleased and at the moment, all was right with the world. She snuggled into his chest, closing her eyes. He ran his fingers gently through her hair.

"You're wonderful." she whispered. He stopped and stiffened a little, but pulled her in closer, kissing the top of her head.

"It disarms me a little that you can still think that after everything I've done."

She kissed his chest. "In a strange way, I feel closer to you than ever before."

"That is strange. You're weird, did you know?"

"Can you be serious for even a minute?"

"I prefer not to but it's been known to happen from time to time. Why?"

"I'm trying to tell you how happy I am. I finally feel like I have you. The real you, with nothing standing in our way. No Justice, no templars to hide you from, no more lies. Just you and I. Forever."

His heart skipped a beat. "And that's what you want?"

She nodded. "More than anything."

His head was spinning. Why now? Could her timing get any worse? All he wanted in this world was to remain here beside her, to languor in that bed, in her arms for eternity, and yet it seemed it just wasn't meant to be. He had to tell her now before he lost his nerve. Just one last betrayal. If they could get through this, they could get through anything.

"Hawke, there's something I need to tell you."

Her eyes met his. "Oh no. You didn't lose another bet with Varric did you? I'm cutting you off. It's for your own good. You'll never learn your lesson if I don't."

"That isn't it." He sighed. "You aren't making this any easier." He could feel his body trembling.

She took his hand and kissed it softly. "Whatever it is, we'll face it together. We're stronger than ever. Now, will you just tell me? I'm sure it will make you feel better to get it off your chest."

He wanted to believe her, that this wouldn't break them. That their love was stronger than this mistake of his, but he couldn't, and all his willpower crumbled at the thought of losing her. "Let's get married." He said.

"Is that what this is about? I already said I would. We'll begin making plans as soon as we're back in Kirkwall and this business with the templars is settled."

"No!" he shouted. "Right now. Today." The words surprised even him when he said them.

"What? Why?"

"Why not? All our friends are here. Isabela is a ship captain, she can marry us. What more do we need?"

"I thought you said you wanted me to claim you in front of Andraste herself, now you want _Isabela_ of all people to do the honors? In the middle of the sea?"

"Tomorrow may never come. It needs to be today. It needs to be here. Say you will, Hawke." He said, much too urgently. He felt ashamed of himself, but she was the only good thing in his life. He needed her.

"Anders, you're acting strangely even for you. What's this really about?" She gave him a puzzled look.

He sat up, facing away from her. "I can't tell you." He said, quietly.

"You _can_ tell me. I don't want any more secrets between us. We can work through it, but only if you tell me."

He buried his face in his hands. "Not this secret we can't. You'll leave me forever."

"Anders..."

"Maker, please don't make me do this." He was crying now. It didn't matter. Nothing could measure against the shame he was already feeling.

"Is there someone else?" She asked, putting her hand on his shoulder.

"No." He almost laughed. "Would that it were something as small as that. No, you are the only woman for me, my love. Ever. I will never love again."

"I'm sure it's not as bad as you're making it out to be." She put her arms around him from behind.

"Will you kiss me one last time?"

"Now you're being melodramatic. Tell me what's going on and we'll kiss many, many times."

"Just humor me, then." He said, turning toward her. "I need this."

She sighed, but she kissed him. A slow, tender kiss. Fitting for a goodbye. He wished it could last forever, but she pulled away and wiped his tears from her face. He stared down at the bed beneath them, following the patterns on the blanket with his eyes.

"Fenris is alive." He said. He felt no relief from saying it. It seemed the words echoed off the walls, resounding in his mind again and again.

She said nothing. She didn't hit him. She didn't cry. She didn't scream. He could feel her stare, but he couldn't look her in the eye.

"After you fell, Danarius was going to take you back to Minrathous with him and turn you into a sex slave. Fenris offered himself instead. He told me to tell you that he was dead. He made me promise to keep you out of Tevinter. I failed. I failed both of you. I should have told you sooner, but I thought there was still a chance I could stop you from going. That's why I did it. That's why I threw the water overboard and hired the Crows." The words poured out of him, each one more damning than the last.

She still didn't speak. Somehow it was worse than if she was saying goodbye. It felt like there were miles between them. A tear slipped down his nose and landed in her lap.

"I'm sorry." He whispered.

She stood and left the cabin without a word, but in her silence there was finality.

* * *

**Dear Fenris fangirls,**

**I told you I was on your side. Can we be friends again?**

**Love,**

**Shinkshinkshink**

**P.S. Soon. Very goddamn soon. **


	60. What Happens in Tevinter

**Hawke**

_Fenris is alive. _Somehow the thought didn't give her any comfort. She knew already that he probably wouldn't remember her. Wouldn't remember what they had together. Danarius would order him to attack her and he wouldn't stop until one of them was dead.

Slowly the pieces came together and everything began to make sense. Varric's warning back at the Hanged Man, the Crows, her dream. It all painted a picture of betrayal. She wanted to scream. _Anders._ She kicked over a barrel.

She loved Anders, but how could she ever trust him again? A part of her wondered if the only reason he told her at all was because they were so close to Minrathous. How many other lies were there? How many more would there be? Even if he never lied to her again, she wondered if she could ever look at him the same again. Would she always doubt every word he said? Always wait for his next betrayal?

She believed what he had said, in this case at least. It sounded like something Fenris would do. But she had trouble believing that his intentions were completely pure. There was a time when nothing would have given Anders greater satisfaction than seeing Fenris sold into slavery or killed. He hated him and looked down upon him, especially for his history with her.

And besides, she was tired. Tired of him treating her like she was fragile or incompetent. Tired of the lies. Tired of him trying to protect her. Tired of him treating her like a child.

She heard footsteps approaching. She glanced in their direction. Varric. Number two on the list of people she didn't want to see right then.

"Go to hell." she growled in his general direction.

He sighed. "I deserve that."

"I could almost expect such a thing from Anders, but you, Varric? How could you?"

"Hawke, what was I supposed to do? You got your head busted up and it was either let him take you or Fenris. As much as I like the elf, he volunteered. The world needs you. Your story is important."

"It's my story! I'm the hero! Heroes make sacrifices!"

"Sometimes, when their story is over. Yours wasn't."

"You don't get to decide when my story ends! You took my choice from me! It should have been me!"

"You weren't conscious to make choices at the time."

"But you knew what I would have wanted if I was!" she punched a wall. She thought maybe the pain in her knuckles would offset the pain of betrayal, but it didn't really. "And then you lied to me about it! Varania!" she spat. "That was a lie too, wasn't it? You're supposed to be my friend!"

"Look, I'm not good at apologies, and I'm not the one you're really angry at. So let's march in there and kill that bastard and save the elf. Bianca's dying to get off this Maker-forsaken ship."

"That's the plan." she said, agitated.

Varric nodded. "Hawke, before I go..."

"I can handle my own relationships, Varric."

"This wasn't exactly a picnic for him either, you know."

"Yes, I'm sure he was all broken up over Fenris. They were _best friends_, after all."

"Cute." he said. "You know he was trying to protect you."

"And that's the problem. I'm tired of him treating me like some kind of delicate little flower."

"That's something you need to talk to him about." Varric shrugged. "I'm sure he'd be willing to listen if you gave him the chance. But I've said my piece. You know where to find me. Bianca and I will be ready when the time comes."

* * *

She was staying in Isabela's cabin again. She noticed Anders didn't leave his much for the rest of the trip. She did pass him once on the way to the galley. He was haggard and unshaven with dark circles under his eyes. He looked truly sorry. So was she, but it was too late for that. He was not the man she had fallen in love with. That man never existed except in her mind. She mourned him well.

He stopped dead in his tracks when he saw her, staring intently at her feet, never looking her in the eye. His mouth twitched and screwed up in unnatural shapes as he seemed to struggle to find words, to fight back tears.

"I miss you, my love." He said, barely above a whisper. He sounded just as he always sounded, spoke in the same manner he'd always spoken to her. Once he could have made her heart melt just by calling her that. Two small words could have smoothed over any argument, fixed any hurt she could have felt. She always battled to stay angry at Anders. But it wasn't anger she felt now, only sorrow.

"If I could go back, I would never..." He palmed his forehead. "No. No, you don't want to hear that." He began to walk away.

"Anders." She called, against her better judgment. He turned. "Will you fight with me against Danarius?"

"You would still have me by your side?" he asked, surprised.

"I would."

He hesitated, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. "There is nothing I wouldn't do for you, Hawke. I am with you until the bitter end."

* * *

Isabela had no issue getting permission to dock her ship, luckily. Hawke was expecting some sort of complication with the port authority, but the process went smoothly.

The docks in Kirkwall were a veritable party compared to the docks here. There were slavers everywhere. She had underestimated the cruelty of the Imperium, and the need for slaves. There were more elves here than in Sundermount, all with heads bowed and fear in their eyes. Men unloaded crates and crates of lyrium from the hold of a massive cargo ship, and a single shifty-looking templar signed for them all.

She should have felt happy to be on dry land again, but she found herself anxious to get this business over and done with.

"Do you have a plan?" Aveline asked. "Or do you intend to just march in, kill Danarius and leave with Fenris?"

She shouldn't have been surprised to learn that everyone knew about Fenris, but she was. "Not so loud!" Hawke said. "And yes, Maker willing. That is pretty much the long and short of it. I had hoped to attack at nightfall, perhaps catch him unawares."

"Hawke..."

"What would you have me do, Aveline? From what I understand of Minrathous, the Circle is very protective of the magisters. We need to get in and get out before anyone is alerted to our presence."

"Do you even know where he lives?" Aveline asked.

"In a bloody big house."

"That narrows it down. And what will you do when Fenris shows?"

Hawke sighed. "I'll figure that out when it happens."

"Just remember that you'll have to live with the consequences, one way or the other."

Hawke turned on her, thrusting her pointer finger into her chest. "You think I don't know that?! Sometimes I wish he _was_ dead. It would be better if he was. He deserved to die a good death, standing for what he believed in. He deserved to die as Fenris, not a tyrant's weapon, and not by my hand. I failed him. He's my responsibility now. If he must die a slave, let me look him in the eye and do it myself, and yes, live with it. It's the least I can do for him."

"You are ready." Aveline said confidently.

"As ready as I ever will be."

* * *

The streets of Minrathous were busy with people running to and fro between market stalls, speaking their strange tongue. It was hotter than Kirkwall on any day.

Varric gave a whistle as they came across a statue of the prophet Andraste, she could see why. It was huge. At some point it may have served as a reminder of the inherent treachery of forbidden magic. Now it seemed to be a warning to anyone who would oppose the Tevinter way of life.

"This is where she died." Varric said, reading the inscription in the stone. "This is where they burned Andraste."

"Doesn't the Chantry consider this a sacred place?" She asked to no one in particular, noting the pigeon droppings and the cracks in the face.

"The Imperial Chantry is a little different from ours." Anders answered quietly. "They do not serve the Divine in Orlais. Instead they elect their own Divine. The Black Divine believes the entire city is a relic. That is why everything is crumbling here. One needs to have permission from the Chantry before they can build, fix or demolish virtually anything in Minrathous."

"And yet they defile her legacy with slavery and blood magic." She said. "The Imperium is everything she stood against. Did they learn nothing from the Black City?"

"History has a tendency to repeat itself." He sighed.

"Hawke?" She heard from somewhere behind her. She turned. "Is that really you?"

"Feynriel, how are you?" She asked throwing her arms around the boy. "Let me look at you!" He looked positively resplendent in his white cotton apprentice robes. Evidently he was doing well under his master's tutelage to be decked out in such attire. "How are you faring in your training?"

"I'm doing well, thanks to you. To think I came so close to becoming Tranquil. I owe you everything."

"How is your master treating you?"

"He is quite strict, but fair. Actually, he is a fan of yours. I have some business in the market, but it will only take a moment. I'm certain he would love to meet you. Would you come by for a visit?"

"Certainly." She said, walking beside him.

"Are you here on vacation?"

"Business. In fact, maybe you can help me with that. I'm looking for a certain magister named Danarius. Have you ever heard of him?"

Feynriel stopped and turned to her. "Danarius. Are you positive that is the name of the magister you seek? His name is Danarius?" She nodded. His shook his head. "Hawke, I know this man. I beg you, don't do business with him. Whatever it is, it's not important. He is a very cruel man."

"I know _exactly_ what he is, Feynriel."

Feynriel seemed to read between the lines. "I don't want to know." He said. "But yes, I do know him. He does not live far from my master's estate, as a matter of fact. I can take you to him after your visit. With my master's permission, of course."

"I do not think that is wise, but if you could point me in his direction I would be most grateful."

"As you wish." He said.

"And let's just keep the nature of my business between you and I, shall we?"

"Of course. You have my word."

A merchant slid a parcel into Feynriel's hand and spread his palm to receive payment. Feynriel obliged with four silver coins.

He led her to his master's estate. It was an ancient building with cracks in the walls and doric columns lining the perimeter. There was a golem standing watch in the doorway. Hawke mistook it for a statue at first, but it's eyes glowed when they passed. Hawke gasped and reached for her axe.

"Don't be alarmed! Golems are quite commonplace in Minrathous. It won't hurt you. This one does little more than look intimidating."

"Well, it's doing a fine job." She said.

"I suppose so." Feynriel laughed. Then looked back at the rest of the group. "I'm sorry, but your friends will have to wait here."

"Of course." Hawke said, gesturing at the others. Anders gave her a defiant look, but complied with a noteworthy pout and a dramatic huff. She stepped inside.

"He's rather protective, isn't he?" Feynriel asked, pointing behind them.

"To a fault." Hawke said sadly.


	61. Every Time You Say Goodbye

**Anders**

It took every ounce of his willpower to let Hawke cross through that threshold on her own. He had a bad feeling about Minrathous, about this trip in general. He knew he had to trust her, else how could he ever expect her to trust him?

Still, Feynriel seemed no worse for wear under this particular magister's care. Perhaps Fenris had exaggerated the evil of this place, like he did the evil of magic itself. In fact, it seemed likely that he did. Anders would not be too surprised to find that all his fears were based on his own horrible experience.

The thought did nothing for his nerves, however. He paced and paced until Aveline snapped at him. He sat on the ground, throwing rocks at a tree. After a while Varric sat down next to him.

"How you holding up?" He asked.

"I'll be much better when she comes out unharmed." He said.

"You know what I mean."

Anders turned to Varric. "You're concerned about my feelings?"

Varric feigned annoyance. "Tell everyone, why don't you?"

He sighed. "It doesn't matter how I feel. I broke her heart. I knew it would happen eventually, but I always thought Justice would be involved. Now she hates me."

"I talked to her myself. I have it on very good authority that she doesn't hate you."

"She told you that? She specifically said 'I don't hate Anders'? Somehow I highly doubt that."

"Blondie, Hawke's...complicated. Yes, she's a woman, but she's a warrior first, with all the hallmarks of a true hero. She just wants you to start treating her like one."

"What do you mean? I do treat her like a hero. She's always been a hero to me." It was true. He'd always known Hawke would go down in history, and that the rest of them would be little more than footnotes in her story. He was fine with that. In fact, he was immensely proud of her. He was proud to be seen fighting beside her. Her strength and bravery was what made him fall in love with her to begin with. He'd always been in awe of her.

"She means it in a traditional sense. Hawke's a conqueror, a knight in shining armor, if you will."

"So did I! Wait, what did you think I meant?"

"It doesn't matter what I think. _She_ thinks you coddle her. _She_ believes she failed Fenris. That was a massive blow to her ego, and us trying to protect her only made it worse. _She_ thinks you don't believe in her ability."

"Oh for the love of..." he smacked himself in the forehead. If Varric was right, maybe he could still fix this. "Are you sure?"

He nodded. "She just needs time and respect."

"I hope you're right."

* * *

She finally emerged from the doorway a few hours later with Feynriel. The boy whispered something to her and ran back into the mansion.

"How did it go?" he asked, trying to hide the worry in his voice.

"I know where our target is. Let's prepare at the ship and get this over with."

"Are we ready?"

"We need to be." She said. She looked determined, but this time there was no note of arrogance. No pompous sneer across her lips. He was certain that Danarius would die, but whether or not she would call it a victory depended on many things. Most importantly, how much blood was on her hands at the end of the night.

* * *

He found her near the stern of the ship, sparring with Britta. He sat and watched, stunned by how far she'd come in a couple months worth of time. Her style was different now. She was quicker. Deadlier. Every slice of her axe was meant to kill instantly.

"Shouldn't you be practicing with me instead? Last I checked Danarius doesn't carry a mace."

She stopped, motioning for Britta to break. "I'm not practicing for Danarius." She said, wiping her forehead.

He understood. If she had to fight Fenris, she would want it to end quickly for him. No pain, just a quick, clean death. He was glad she had this kind of foresight. He would want the same for himself should Justice ever truly take over.

"Hawke, in case things go in a bad way..." He began.

"This isn't a good time, Anders." She snapped.

"I may not have another chance." He said. "It will only take a minute."

He reached in his pocket, and pulled out the ring. He'd gotten it back in Antiva. He had intended on giving it to her on their wedding day, but that didn't matter to him anymore. He didn't need any promises from her, just a chance. One more chance. One he didn't deserve.

The thing felt like it weighed more than the ship itself. He would crash through the floorboards and sink to the bottom of the sea if he didn't get rid of it. It slipped out of his hands into hers.

Before she even looked at it, she seemed to know what it was. After a moment of staring at him in disbelief, she glanced down at it, turning it over in her hands. The red stone matched her cape, matched the strip of fabric around her wrist, the one she'd given to Fenris so long ago, the one Anders had given back to her because he loved her.

"It's beautiful." she said quietly. "But I'm sorry, I can't accept it."

Anders nodded, gulping hard. "You can."

"No, no it means too much." she tried to hand it back to him.

"It means whatever you want it to mean." He pushed her hands away. "Right now, it means 'Kill that son of a bitch, Hawke! Chop his bloody balls off!'"

She laughed. "Spoken like a true romantic."

"It also means 'it's an honor to fight beside you.'"

She slipped it on her finger and admired it. "Thank you. May the Maker lead us to victory." She did seem grateful, but she did not kiss him on the cheek, did not hug him around the neck. He nodded. It was expected, but still disappointing.

"If there is victory to be had, it will be by your hand, I'm certain."


	62. Souvenirs from Minrathous

**Gory chapter. Be forewarned. **

**Hawke**

"Do you all know what to do?" She whispered as they approached the building from behind. Everyone nodded in unison. "Last chance to head back to the ship. This will get ugly." Predictably, no one left. "Good."

Varric picked the lock to the door handily and poked his head in, looking left to right for any sign of life. He gestured for them to follow.

Anders drew a rune on each of the closed doors they passed. Hawke counted the doors quietly to herself until she found the one she was looking for. Seventh door on the left, next to the long hall. Double doors, actually. She peeked down the narrow corridor. _That's where Fenris will come from. _She thought to herself. She shuddered a little, unsure if it was the cold or worry.

When all the doors were sealed except for the one she needed, she pushed it open, grabbing for the blade at her hip. If she could, she would slit Danarius' throat while he slept. That was ideal. He didn't deserve the honor of looking his murderer in the eye. She couldn't afford to give him a fair fight, he was too dangerous.

She crept into the room. She found the bed easily enough, but it was empty. She cursed to herself. Varric shrugged. Before she had time to think of a different plan she saw a light flickering under a door down the stairs.

She moved steadily and as silently as she could in her plate. She was certain the untrained ear would not be alerted to her presence. Of course, it wasn't the untrained ear she was worried about. It was Fenris.

This was it. All that was left between her and the magister was one door. She counted down from ten, and when she reached one she kicked it open.

Danarius jumped out of his chair against the window, He turned ghostly white. "You!" He shouted. "No! You should be dead!"

His voice set off something inside her, and she let out a bestial scream, half woman, half monster. He began to cast something, but she flew across the room, leaping over the desk, sending paper and quill fluttering to the floor. She bowled him over, interrupting his spell. it was too late for her to reel herself in.

"Fenris!" he yelled. "Protect me."

She sneered and threw her axe to the side. Much too easy. She wanted to play, wanted to make him suffer in the same way he had made Fenris suffer, wanted to feed him his own heart. If she could cause him enough pain to make him forget who he was, she would. She pulled out the dagger from her belt, lifting it high into the air. She brought it down into his shoulder and twisted, pulling it out again. The magister wailed and convulsed in agony. Blood squirted over her face. She licked her lips. She pushed two fingers into the newly made hole stretching it further, reveling in the sound of his screams and the squish of pink raw flesh.

It occurred to her rage-fevered mind that every inch of the monster in front of her was an instrument of torture. Hands for striking, fingers for groping, mouth for cursing, feet for kicking. That was what this "man" was, and it filled her with hate until that was all she was in that moment. She bent each of his fingers back until they broke. The snapping sounded like the beat of a drum, the percussion of a song she knew by heart. "Please, have mercy!" the chorus went. The song needed to end. She slit his mouth from ear to ear and cut out his tongue. There was a satisfying "plop" as she tossed it to the floor. No more lyrics. No more cruel words, no more insults, no more curses. He would never hurt Fenris with that mouth again.

Only one other device of torment remained. His eyes widened as she turned, lifting the hem of his robe. He made a choking sound that may have been words had he a tongue, had he a working mouth. With a quick swipe she castrated him. No more abuse. No more pain for Fenris, for anyone from this man, if you could call him that anymore.

She plunged the dagger into his gut. Danarius gave a croaking groan of agony, drawing his final breaths. She pushed the blade further down, tearing into his intestines. "There is your mercy." she spat in his face. "It is better than you deserve." And the monster in her couldn't help but feel dissatisfied by how quickly it was over. The monster in her felt empty. The monster in her wanted more.


	63. A Sight for Sore Eyes

**I'm sorry if the last chapter seemed a little rushed. Hopefully this will make up for it until I'm able to rewrite it. **

**Fenris**

His eyes shot open. He turned on his bed to find himself alone again. A dream. Just another dream.

This time she had fallen asleep in his arms under the yellow moon. He stared up at the stars, connecting them with his mind to write out her name, wanting to give Hawke her very own constellations. If he could, he would have plucked them from the sky itself for her to wear in her hair.

He delighted in the simple pleasures of her scent, her slow, even breathing on his neck and the weight of her against his body. He pulled her arm around him. She stirred only a little, to nuzzle further into his chest. He sighed, thinking this is what it must feel like to truly be loved.

A wolf bayed long and low at the moon and her eyes fluttered open. She looked up at him, her eyes lingering a bit too long on his lips.

"You are staring, Hawke."

She settled back into his chest. "I like looking at you."

"I will still be here for you to look at in the morning." He said, as though he really believed it to be true. "Go back to sleep."

And then he'd awoken to pain and loneliness, as usual. It was no wonder he had been sleeping for weeks. He was anxious to sleep again, even now.

He wondered how much longer Danarius would allow him to recover. Cinaide said the magister had some need of him. Whatever need that was, it was only a matter of time before it outweighed his own.

He didn't care. He just wanted to go back to bed. The Fade's gauzy caress called to him in the form of his pillow and blanket. If this was a demon's trick, he had been ensnared. His mind was weaker than he thought possible. It would be so easy to sleep and never wake up, to take permanent residence beyond the Veil, where Hawke was. Nothing would make him happier.

Outside his room he heard a crash and then a scream. The magister's scream. Part of him wanted to ignore it, but the slave part of him could not. He tossed his legs over the side of the bed and wiped the dust from the corner of his eyes. Another scream. He stood up on his wobbly legs and began the arduous task of putting his armor on, staring at his pillow longingly all the while.

His armor was ill-fitting from weeks of inactivity. It weighed more than he remembered, or more likely, he was weaker than he remembered. His brands burned under the weight of the leather. He could barely lift his sword, but he took it anyway and hobbled across the hall toward his master's study where the sounds were coming from.

Dark silhouettes stood contrast against the light of the doorway, ending in sharp points that he guessed were weapons, staring into the room where the screaming was coming from. He yawned. _So much screaming!_ He would do anything for some quiet. He stumbled down the stairs, trying not to trip and fall. There weren't supposed to be visitors this late. _Weapons? That isn't right. _

Slowly but surely the gears in his brain began turning and he realized what was happening. He stopped and ran into the room, pushing past the figures, not bothering to notice their faces.

"It is better than you deserve." Hawke said. She was standing over his master, covered in his blood.

_"_More dreams." He said angrily. "Now I dream while I'm awake!" He pushed his way across the room, throttling this waking-dream-demon-Hawke. "What do you want from me, demon? What is your price?"

"Fenris." the demon said, a slight waver in it's voice.

"Yes, I understand." He jeered. "You look just like her, sound just like her, if I allow myself to forget what has happened, you _are_ her." He grabbed a fistful of it's hair. It felt so real, just like Hawke's hair, but all of these dreams felt real. Even the ones that made no sense. "Whatever it is, I accept." He said, his lips falling hard upon the demon's. It's mouth was soft as clouds, just as he remembered Hawke's were. It parted it's imposter lips and accepted his tongue, leaning into him, drawing it's arms around him. It tasted like her. It kissed like her. When the kiss ended there were tears streaming down it's face. He kissed them away, allowing himself to indulge in this one fantasy for as long as he could pretend.

"You remember." demon-Hawke whispered, laughing and crying at the same time. "You remember me."

"Get your filthy hands off of her!" Anders yelled, hitting him hard in the gut with his staff. Fenris fell to the ground, all the air in his lungs leaving him. He rubbed his head, now thoroughly confused. If this was supposed to be a temptation, it wasn't a very good one.

"The abomination?" He scowled at demon-Hawke. "You must be new at this."

Anders' staff was poised for attack, but Hawke stood in his way.

"Stop. Can't you see he's confused?"

Fenris turned toward the door and there were the faces of all of Hawke's companions, each looking on with horror in their eyes.

"You're hurt." the demon said kneeling to examine him. "Maker, what did he do to you, Fenris?" She traced the welts and purple black bruises around his markings with her finger. "Is it painful? Anders, can you fix him?"

Anders rolled his eyes and gave a dramatic sigh of protest, but squatted beside her all the same. His eyes scanned the skin, assessing the damage. He raised his hands in front of Fenris, letting blue light pour from his fingertips into the marred skin. It was soothing and cool and it felt so very real.

"There." He said. "Can't do anything for that brain of his, however."

"He thinks he's dreaming. Did he call me a demon?"

"I am here." Fenris said. "Do not speak as though I am not."

Anders turned back to him. He took his temperature with the back of his hand. "Well, you don't have a fever. Your mind is just naturally this addled. Fancy that!"

"Stop being an ass." Hawke glared at Anders, then glanced back at Fenris, her eyes softening. "Fenris, it's really me. We've come to get you out of here."

"Impossible. Hawke is in Kirkwall. She believes me to be dead." He caught a glimpse of something red out of the corner of his eye. He dropped his gaze to look at it. There, tied around her wrist was the scrap of fabric he'd worn for three years. "Why do you have that?" He asked.

Hawke began working at the knot in the favor, releasing it from her wrist. She handed it to him. "I wanted to remember. Isn't that why you wore it?"

He tied it in it's rightful place, where Hawke had fastened it so many years ago. He stretched his fingers, looking down at it as though it had never been missing.

"I wore it because it was a gift from _you_." he said. Did he dare believe? "Because _you_ gave it to me."

"Well, I'm giving it to you again." she said with a tearful laugh. "Don't lose it this time."

And he knew it was real. This _was_ real. She _was_ here. Danarius _was _dead.

He threw his head back laughing, unchained, unbound. Not a bemused smirk, not a chuckle or a derisive snort, but a genuine, raucous crow of a laugh. He couldn't remember ever doing such a thing, and the thought of him laughing made him laugh more.

"What's so funny?" she asked.

He shook his head, regaining composure. "You. Can't you ever leave well enough alone, woman?"

"Apparently not?" she chuckled, tilting her head toward Danarius' mutilated corpse. _Did she cut his balls off?_ He laughed some more. "Sorry to disappoint."

Something overcame him just then. Before he realized it, he had tossed his gauntlets aside and moved forward to cup her cheek in his hands. He was trembling, but he was not afraid. He closed his eyes, letting his forehead rest against hers, steadying his ragged breathing. He raked his shaking fingers through her hair. It was dizzying to be so close to her again. He was drunk on the air around them.

"Hawke," he whispered. The room seemed to be spinning now, colors whirred past them and the earth was rocking beneath him. He held onto her, for stability and desire in equal parts, as he felt he might pass out at any moment. "I would have it no other way." He lifted his lips to kiss her again, gentler this time.

All the pain of years apart came forward in that kiss. Powerlessness, rejection, loss, grief, sorrow, fear, longing, failure, they were all present and agonizing, but neither of them buckled under their weight. Neither of them fled. There would be more wounds, even when the old ones faded. It had been pain that had brought them together in the first place, and if he were given the choice, he would endure it all again for her.

But there were _good_ things in that kiss too. Gratitude, forgiveness, friendship, safety, honesty, respect and yes, love. The kiss was all of these things, but most importantly, it was hers. This was Hawke, pain and pleasure, joy and sadness, passion and grief, laughter and tears, this is all of what she was in a simple gesture. He could taste her contrast, all her violence and beauty. He hungrily accepted everything, offering all he could of himself in exchange. He wondered if she would balk when she saw how meager it really was, but she never did. Instead she climbed into his lap and demanded more. So he gave her the burden he'd been carrying so long, the one thing he could never talk about and hoped she would understand. He opened his vein for her to see, showed her all the twisted and gnarled and broken pieces that he was made of. He did not try to hide how stunted he really was, and even with tears streaming down her face she did not spurn him.

She was shaking and digging her fingers into the skin on the back of his neck. He broke away, looking into her face. He couldn't help but notice the look of abject terror in her eyes. She grabbed his wrists, holding onto him with everything she had. She had plenty of reason to. Every kiss he'd ever given her had ended with her heart broken, but this time would be different.

"I'm sorry." He said, embracing her. And he was. He was sorry for rejecting her, for leaving her alone to mourn for him, sorry for never having told her that he loved her. Now wasn't the time for explanations, but he would make his regrets known in due time. He buried his face in her neck, breathing in her heady scent. "Forgive me, Hawke."

She truly sobbed now. She was shuddering and shaking in his arms. He remembered the night she came to him in the middle of the night, drunk and emotional. He remembered his pathetic attempt to console her. He'd felt so powerless, so confused. He didn't feel that way now. He knew the reassurance Hawke needed, and for the first time, he was ready to give it to her. "I won't leave again. You have my word." He whispered to her, rocking her gently. "I am yours."


	64. Chekhov's Gun

**Hope all my American readers had a nice Thanksgiving. :)**

**And here is Chekhov's gun. **

**Hawke**

As if waking from a dream, she remembered where she was and what she was there for. She threw herself off of Fenris. She was keenly aware that they were not alone, they were not safe. She could feel too many eyes upon her. _Oh Maker, what have I done? Anders... _She thought, but he was nowhere in sight. Maybe that was for the better, she didn't have time to console him or apologize, and she didn't owe him an apology anyway.

She wiped the tears from her eyes and turned to the door. They both stood up, awkwardly avoiding eye contact. He grabbed his discarded gauntlets, replacing them on his wrists.

"We need to go." she said moving for the door.

Fenris placed his hand on her shoulder "there are others, Hawke." he said quietly.

Her eyes widened in understanding. Of course. _Other slaves._ She hadn't thought of that. Fenris couldn't leave them any more than she could leave him.

"How many?"

"Two dozen, not counting my mistress's nursemaid, she is probably with Severa." He said.

"Your _mistress?_" Hawke hissed in both anger and disbelief. "Danarius was married? To a woman?"

"Surely you encountered her on the way?" Hawke shook her head. His brow furrowed and a scowl formed on his lips. He marched past her, pushing through the wall of onlookers in the doorway. She followed closely. Still no Anders in sight. Perhaps he left the building. That's what she hoped.

"Who is this woman? What are we up against?"

"I do not know." He said. "But I intend to find out."

Up the stairs, the door next to the master suite was open. Anders' rune had been broken, or deactivated along with the ones on all the other doors on that floor. Hawke peeked into the room. The corpse of a petite elven girl was sprawled across the floor, drained of her blood. It was the one and only sign that the magister had even been in there to begin with. Wherever she was, she knew they were there and she was ready for them. No sign of Anders, thankfully.

"Faustina." Fenris growled, sneering at the corpse.

"Who?"

"The nursemaid."

"So are we looking for a pregnant woman?"

"No." he said. "It is best we prepare ourselves for anything. There's no telling what she's capable of."

Hawke drew her axe, the others followed suit, readying their own weapons. She pressed her ear against the wall to see if she could hear anything on the other side. Nothing.

"Alright. Varric, Aveline, Britta and Fenris; come with me. We're each going to pick a door and on the count of three we're going to kick them open. I don't want this magister getting the jump on us. Merrill and Isabela; I want you to stay back and be ready to join the fray if one of us should find her."

"Happy hunting, Hawke." Fenris said, but he didn't try to stop her, he didn't try to protect her or keep her from doing it. Fenris never underestimated her. Never made her feel weak or incapable. Never questioned her strategies. His confidence in her ability was what had attracted her to him in the first place.

She nodded. "Maker guide your sword."

They crept into the hall and silently took position in front of the doors. She counted down, just as she had before and the doors crashed open and then there was silence. Her room was empty.

"My room's empty." she called.

"Clear." Varric said.

"Nothing here, Hawke." Aveline said.

"Empty." Fenris said.

There was more silence, but Britta's lack of an answer seemed ominous. "Britta?"

She ran from the room down the hall. Merrill was standing at the door, awash in green light. "Melana sahlin!" she yelled. She could very clearly hear the sound of Isabela's footwork and the "whoosh" of Britta's hammer marring little more than air.

"In here!" she called to the others. They quickly followed.

The magister was surrounded by a dome of swirling red and black energy. She'd only seen magic like it once before and it had imprisoned her in her mind for weeks. Isabela's daggers stabbed into it and a jolt of purple lightning spread over the surface of the magic field.

Hawke crossed the room in three quick steps and swung her axe through the field. Electricity exploded from the blade, but the caster was unharmed. Varric's arrows bounced off it harmlessly.

The more the fighting wore on, the more the magister's intentions became clear. This dome was impenetrable. They would wear themselves out eventually trying to break it and then, only then would she strike. Fenris turned her toward him.

"Let me." Fenris said. "This is what I was created for."

"What?! Are you insane? You'll get yourself killed! Absolutely not!"

"You would forbid me?" he asked raising his eyebrow.

"No. Of course not, but Fenris..."

"Trust me." She frowned, but nodded, gritting her teeth and stepping back to allow him room. She wanted to give him the same vote of confidence he always gave her.

Fenris braced himself, his skin began to glow blue and he clenched his fists. In a quick motion, he stepped through the dome, burying his fist into Severa's chest. His body twitched and he shouted in pain, jolts of raw magical energy sparked off of his markings, but the force-field dropped. The magister's eyes were wide with fear. His lips curled into a wicked little smile.

"You're too late to save the girl." Severa said. "It's your fault she's dead."

Fenris ignored her and sneered. "Danarius is waiting. Let me speed you to his side."

Severa's pupils narrowed and then she morphed into a hulking pride abomination before their very eyes. Fenris fell backward and his mouth gaped at the sight. He got to back to his feet just in time to narrowly escape it's reach as it smashed it's enormous fist into the ground. The floor cracked and then the fight began in true.

Hawke swung her axe and used the momentum to throw her into the creature. She lost herself in the moment until all that was left was a chorus of pain. Scale and flesh rendered upon her axe and Fenris' sword. Aveline slammed into the beast, Varric loosed bolt after bolt into the thing's face, and green magic sizzled somewhere nearby.

A steady stream of foreign curses left Fenris' lips. He seemed to be meditating. Hawke thought the words must keep him grounded and in control, but she recognized it as just another of his peculiarities. She fell into rhythm with him, her swings pushing the beast toward him and vice versa. She admitted to herself that she missed fighting alongside him. Adrenaline surged through her as she thought she saw him smile at her between swings.

The demon stepped forward and swiped Aveline and Britta off their feet, then charged Varric, bringing Isabela - who's dagger was deeply embedded into it's thigh - with it. Varric sidestepped the attack and released three bolts into it's shoulder with a cheer.

It caught sight of Merrill and began stomping toward her. Hawke ran to get ahead of it but it knocked her away like a fly. Fenris leapt into the air and sunk his blade into it's back and it threw it's head back with a roar, but didn't fall. Merrill's eyes began to grow larger and larger with each step toward her until Hawke could see her hair moving in it's breath.

"Merrill run!" Hawke shouted. The beast turned it's attention toward her, looking for more challenging prey and lifted it's clawed hand to swipe.

"Leave her alone, you ugly bitch!" she heard Anders say.

And then he stepped in front of her out of nowhere and slammed his staff into the ground. A tendril of spinning cold energy rose from the ground around it and swallowed Severa up, freezing the monster in place and the world was silent again. Anders made a noise of disgust and wiped a glob of spit off of his coat. In no kind of hurry he strode over to the icy enemy and merely touched it with the tip of his staff. It shattered and fell to the ground.

He sighed. Then after a moment or two looked around him as if suddenly aware that all eyes were upon him. He chuckled nervously. "I'll never be able to do that again as long as I live." Hawke smiled, more than a little impressed. She was glad to have him on her side, if nothing else.

"We need to hurry." Fenris said, snapping her back into reality. "the Circle guards magister phylacteries with a watchful eye, and these ones will have already stopped glowing. It won't be long before they send a team to find out what's happened here."


	65. Act of Mercy

**Fenris**

"What did she mean by that?" Hawke asked. "Too late to save what girl?"

"...Fenris." someone called weakly.

He turned slowly toward the voice. The shadow of a prostrate figure lay in the corner of the room, reaching for him. He knew who it was, but he refused to believe it. Refused to accept it until he saw it. He approached her cautiously.

Her long brown hair hung over her face, obscuring her eyes, but the paleness of her skin could not be ignored. Behind her the contents of a bedpan had been spilled across the floor.

"I told you that your Champion would rescue you." She smiled. A thin line of blood trickled from her mouth. He closed his eyes, but it didn't make it go away. He could hear her labored breathing, each inhalation popped from something broken deep inside her. Something he knew could not be fixed.

"Cinaide." he whispered. "Why?"

"It's okay, Fenris. You avenged me." she said.

"No." he said. "I failed you."

"I'm just glad you're alright."

"I won't leave you." he said. "We can carry you with us. Anders can heal..."

"Hush." she said in a tone that seemed to belong to a woman beyond her years. "Be free for both of us."

"Tt's too late for her." Anders said sounding helpless. "There's nothing I can do."

"She's just a girl! Surely you can do something!" Hawke said.

"She is beyond healing, Hawke. Even if I could, she wouldn't be strong enough to walk. Think of what we'll look like, carrying a slave around Minrathous. We'll stick out like sore thumbs. I'm so sorry, Hawke."

"Well we can't just leave her here to bleed out!"

"Fenris," Cinaide said. "You know what you must do."

She didn't need to say it. He already knew what she was asking him. It wasn't surprising. Taking lives had been his job for years. He did not delude himself or sugarcoat it either, some of the people he killed during his bondage had been innocent. Some of them didn't deserve their fate. He knew this. He was a weapon, a sword does not mourn the people it impales. That was it's purpose. This was _his _burden.

"I can't." he said. "There must be another way."

"Do it." she said. "Please."

Out of the corner of his eye he could see Hawke shooing the others out of the room to give them privacy.

"She's beautiful, just like in the stories." Cinaide said. "You belong together."

"Yes." he said. He hesitated. "Cinaide, I..."

"It hurts, Fenris." she said.

He nodded. There was no going back now. He reached into the Fade as he had so many times before and took the girl's heart in his hand. It was small, and it's beat was slow and faint.

Once Danarius had made him kill a boy for trespassing. After he was standing before the boy's corpse he noted that evil men and children die the same in the end. They bled the same, begged for their lives the same, and fell to the ground the same, and he didn't need to see to know that they were mourned the same, decomposed the same and were eventually forgotten the same.

He looked up at Cinaide through his white hair.

"Thank you." she said, and he took her life. He was astounded how easy it really was, just like killing Hadriana or Severa. He stood slowly, his arms hanging at his sides, heavier than he remembered them being. He stepped through the door.

"It is done." he said, before Hawke could speak. She sighed. He dared chance a look into her eyes, and thankfully, he saw no pity there. He would have to remember to kiss her for that later, but he wasn't likely to forget.

"Let's get the others." she said. He was grateful for the distraction.

* * *

It took nearly an hour for them to get all the slaves to stop fidgeting and come, but somehow they managed. Four ran off into the darkness as soon as they were outside the mansion. Fenris shook his head. They were doomed.

Hawke took his hand and Anders gave him a look full of daggers and curses. Fenris tried his best not to look smug. The mage contorted his features and fell back, following at a distance.

The slaves, or the former slaves, rather, seemed frightened by even the smallest sound. At one point Merrill tripped and fell and they all ducked into the shadows. This made the trip to the docks take considerably longer than it should have and Fenris kept looking behind him to make sure no templars or centurions were following them, but the city was asleep.

One girl took one look at the ship and ran for her life, shouting prayers to the Maker, but at that point they were already in the port authority's jurisdiction. Not that Tevinter ports were friendly toward rabble-rousers, but they were not likely to arrest those who were paying to dock there. Some guards gave them dirty looks, but went about their business.

The rest of the former slaves filed onto the ship and Isabela led them down into the hold. There would not be enough beds. There definitely wasn't enough food for everyone to get back to Kirkwall. They would have to stop somewhere. Their safest bet would be Seere, since there would be no safe place for them in the Imperium anymore.

"Are you alright?" Hawke asked.

"I am now." he said, squeezing her hand.

"So, this is how it feels to be a Tevinter fugitive." Hawke said, a wry smile crossing her lips. She put her arm around his shoulder. "I must say, it's not half bad with the right company."

He snorted. "Tactless."

"I'm not known for my decorum. My results, however, speak for themselves."

"Boastful." she punched him playfully in the arm. "Violent."

"And beautiful." she added. "Don't forget that."

"Vain." he smirked.

"Ass."

He raised an eyebrow. "Vulgar. Mean."

"Kiss me, you stupid elf!"

He remembered the night they first attempted and failed to defeat Danarius. On the way to the Hanged Man, Varric had asked him what he intended to do with his life once the magister was dead. He'd given some noncommittal answer: visit Orlais, clean the mansion, buy a dog, something of that nature. Varric seemed satisfied enough that he didn't press the issue, but he suspected by the shake of his head and the chuckle he gave that the dwarf had an inkling of what Fenris truly had in mind.

He looked at Hawke and she looked at him. Her eyes seemed to ask if he intended to make good on all the unspoken promises behind wine bottles and books and solemn kisses in the chilly wind of the alienage. For Fenris, at least, there was no question.

"Mine." he added huskily and kiss her, he did. Not in obedience, not even because she asked, although he found that he had no qualms with taking direction from her. No, he would have kissed her anyway just because he could. Hawke tasted like victory and freedom, no longer a carrot on a string but a prize well-earned and befitting his years of struggle. A prize he claimed with lips and tongue and both hands.


	66. An End and a Beginning

**Hawke**

Dread knotted her stomach as she made her way to his cabin. She nearly gave up and decided to turn back when Varric emerged. He gave her a sad smile when he saw the look on her face, ever the perceptive one, and held the door open for her.

Anders was lying on his back, staring at the ceiling. He didn't seem to notice her entrance. She sat down on the other side of the bed, trying to think of what to say. She'd practiced it so many times in her head, but it wasn't the same now that he was there with her, now that it was really happening. Anders was the first to speak.

"Come to formally end it, have you? As if I didn't already know, what with you giggling and hanging all over each other." He sighed. "I guess I should be happy that you came here to do it yourself."

She clenched her fists. "You really think me so cold, that I would send someone else to do my dirty work for me?"

He sat up and slowly circled the bed to kneel in front of her. "I think it's no less than what I deserve." He stroked a stray hair from her face.

"I'm sorry." She said quietly.

"Not as much as I am." He whispered. "Just tell me something, did you really love me?"

"Yes. I still do. Part of me probably always will. And that's the real tragedy, isn't it? I love you but I can't trust you. If I can't trust you, I can't be with you."

"You _can_ trust me. You can trust me to have your back, to be there for you, to die for you if need be, and above all else to love you unconditionally. You know that. Don't do this thing, love. Don't throw away what we have. I beg you, give me one last chance."

"I can't afford to take chances with my heart anymore." She said.

"Only with _him_, I guess." Anders said bitterly.

"No!" She snapped. "Yes. I don't know. This whole damned thing has left me feeling so very vulnerable and more than a little heart-broken. I don't want to rush into things."

"For what it's worth, I'm sorry that I hurt you."

"You always knew you would. I wish I'd believed you."

He sighed. "I thought it would be Justice's fault."

"I wish it was." She said, standing to leave. "I know it's selfish, but I would rather have lost you to him than believe you could betray me of your own volition."

"I know!" He shouted, burying his face in his hands. "I know. I never meant to make you think that I didn't believe in you. Nothing could be further from the truth. I just couldn't bear the thought of losing you."

"And now you have."

"Yes. More's the pity." He said, a tremor in his voice. "He'll never love you like I do, Hawke. No one will."

She was certain the comment wasn't meant to hurt her, but she fought to keep her temper even. Did he really think her happiness was dependent on him? "Thank the Maker for that." She said over her shoulder as she stepped out onto the deck, dropping the ring on the floor.

* * *

She cried. Mercifully, Isabela was up drinking with Britta and Varric, so she had some privacy. What she'd said was true. She did still love Anders. It was finally starting to sink in that it, that _they_ were over. Three years of love and devotion had culminated into nothing. She hated herself for crying. She felt pathetic and small.

There was a knock at the door. She sniffed and wiped her face off onto her sleeve. Someone coming to assuage her grief, no doubt. The way things got around in this group was maddening. Anders had always been the one she reached out to for comfort when she needed it, but since he was the one who caused her pain in the first place, she hoped it was anyone but him.

She opened the door a crack to see who it was. She was met by a bed of white hair and probing green eyes. She stood aside to let him in, but looked away, trying to hide the flush in her cheeks.

"Hawke," Fenris said, sitting down at Isabela's desk. "I wanted to talk to you about what happened."

Her heart sank. It was happening again. The regret, the rejection, everything. She should have known better than to think things had changed. She sighed, trying to hold back more tears threatening to fall. "It's alright, Fenris. I understand. It was just the heat of the moment."

"Oh." He said softly. He palmed his face. "I see. If that's all it meant to you then I apologize for the disturbance." He rose to leave.

"Wait." She called. He froze in place. "That isn't all it meant to me, I'm just...what was it you were going to say?"

He turned slowly and began fidgeting. "I was going to ask you what comes next? I didn't want to presume..." his voice trailed off.

"Can I be candid with you?" She asked taking his hand. He seemed startled by the sudden physical contact, but he did not pull away.

"Please do." He said.

"In truth, I've never been so frightened in my life. You've never given me any reason not to trust you. In fact you've always been honest with me, even when it hurts, even when it would be easier to lie. And yet, I feel like a cornered hare when I think of getting close to you."

He rubbed the callused pad of his thumb along her knuckles. "I have had enough pain and regret for one lifetime, Hawke. I cannot promise I will never hurt you, but I would not lie to you."

She thought about his answer for a moment and decided it was a good sign. "Can we just play it by ear?" she asked.

"I was hoping you would say that."

She laughed. "Not eager to put little half-elven babies in my belly?"

A blush colored his entire face. He stroked her cheek with his thumbs, and blessedly, he did not comment on the redness or puffiness of her eyes, sparing her the embarrassment. "Right now, I find myself content just to be near you again. We have been apart long enough."

"Longer than I would have liked." She found herself saying, much to her own surprise.

"I am glad we're in agreement. Goodnight Hawke. If you should need anything..."

"You will be the first to know." He nodded and left, but not before turning to her and smiling. In terms of smiles, it wasn't much, just a softening of his brow and a quick and slight tilt of the corners of his lips. Most people probably would have missed it altogether, but she recognized it for it's true meaning. It was something he did for her, often with great difficulty and only when no one else was looking. Her heart fluttered and she had no choice but to return the gesture tenfold.

* * *

As soon as he closed the door she found that feeling receding, however. Alone. She dwelt on that for longer than she should have, staring at the knots in the wood on the bedpost.

She thought she might join Isabela and the others for a drink or two. But as she approached she heard them joking and laughing, and it made her feel even worse.

The door to his cabin was slightly ajar and she could see the flickering of candlelight inside although it was quiet. She wondered if it had been left open for her. She knocked softly, just to be safe, but she heard no answer. Perhaps he was asleep. She pushed the door open quietly as she could muster.

He was sitting up in bed in just his leggings. His eyes shot up as she entered. She averted her gaze to grant him the modesty she knew he usually preferred, but he didn't move to cover himself. Perhaps the dimness of the room was enough for him.

The fire cast strange shadows over his sinewy body. Strange, but not unpleasing to the eye. Here, his markings could not be clearly distinguished. He could be like any other elf in Thedas, if not for his hair. And yet, he was more beautiful than she remembered. She realized she was staring and looked away.

"Something you need, Hawke?" he asked, breaking the silence. There was a tenderness in his voice that she hardly recognized.

She shook her head. He watched her as she shuffled uncomfortably across the room. She felt his gaze could burn holes into her skin. "Maybe." she admitted.

He sat up on the edge of the bed, but said nothing. Fenris was not one to pry. She knew he would not rob her of her dignity, and she was thankful for it. It was all she had in this moment.

"I am here." he said. "Shall I grab us a bottle of Isabela's grog?"

"I'm not sure you'll care for it. It's definitely not Aggregio."

"I've had worse, I assure you." He said, pulling on a soft tunic.

"Sounds like a plan, then." She smiled. "Don't keep me waiting long."

"Never."

* * *

She took a long swig of the foul-tasting liquid, and only cringed a little to her credit. She was nearly accustomed to the taste and the burning, and the pervasive flavor of cinnamon that had permeated every meal since her first week aboard the ship. Fenris almost looked impressed.

"Know your limit, Hawke. As I recall, you are a weepy drunk." He teased, knocking back some himself. He shuddered at the taste. "Dreadful."

She laughed. "I warned you, didn't I? Anyway, not tonight, I'm not. Tonight, I've decided to celebrate."

"Oh?" He cocked an eyebrow at her. "What's the occasion?"

"I should think it's plainly obvious. You're alive, you remember me, you're coming with me back to Kirkwall."

He chuckled. So long had it been since she'd heard it (and even then it was a rare enough thing to delight in) that she nearly melted. She met the sound with a giddy smile. He downed some more of the grog before passing it back to her, his expression suddenly serious.

"I'm sorry if I worried you." He said.

She frowned. This is not where she hoped the conversation would go. "Don't do it again." she said, only half-joking, trying to shake the memory of Anders telling her that Fenris was dead. She shivered.

He lay his head down in her lap. It came as a pleasant surprise to her, as he had always seemed so guarded against touch. Perhaps it was the grog, or perhaps it was something more. Whatever the case, she didn't dare question it. She felt driven to stroke his hair and tentatively did so. When he didn't object she continued, combing and twirling and plaiting it delicately.

Silence, candlelight, her head spinning from the alcohol and Fenris, reclining against her. The intimacy of the moment was nearly overwhelming, and then he reached up and took her hand, placing a kiss in her palm and pressing it against his cheek, then his heart. She could hear the faint thudding under his skin. She spread her fingers and rubbed his chest through the soft fabric of his shirt, remembering where his markings were, avoiding them as best she could. The beat began to quicken. He ran his fingertips along her forearm in lazy circles.

"Valdore ma." she said absently, remembering.

"Hm?"

"Vale adora me." she tried again.

"Valea, adore ma." He corrected her. "Are you going somewhere?"

"I had a dream you said that to me."

"I did." he said. "Once."

"It means goodbye?"

"In a sense." He said. "There is no true word for 'valea' in the common tongue. It's a solemn farewell, usually preceding death, when one must meet their fate with dignity and leave the one they care for behind. Roughly 'live for me.'"

"You thought you would die?"

"Everyone dies, Hawke." he said. "Living without you was a fate worse than death."

Her lips met his. His fingers came up to knit themselves in her hair. His breath was warm and spiced from the cinnamon as his tongue teased her lips apart, deepening the kiss at last. She put her arms around his waist and pulled him ever closer, as though she'd lose him if she let go. When they came up they were panting, gasping for more than recycled air but his lips came down on hers again and again, and she found that she would rather suffocate than have him stop.

"Hawke." he whispered, between fevered kisses. "_My Hawke._"

"Yours." she agreed.

He grunted. "Vere enim morior. Now I am truly dying for you."

"I won't let you. Never again."


	67. For Starters

**Sorry this chapter is so late in the day, everyone. I'm sick right now and every time I tried to post it I fell asleep. XD**

**Fenris**

She'd said it with such sincerity, such quiet demand that he couldn't help but chuckle. "Am I immortal now?"

"Fenris, I'm serious." she said. "Don't ever sacrifice yourself for my safety. I can't lose you again."

_Ah. I knew this would come up eventually, but why now?_ His eyes narrowed in annoyance. "And what would you have done in my stead, Hawke? If the tables were turned and it was me bleeding out on the floor would you have let him take me? Let him whore me out to every magister in Tevinter? Could you have lived with yourself afterward?" Just the thought of Danarius touching Hawke made his fists clench and his teeth grind. "No, I think not. You'd have done the same. Do not deny it."

"And how do you think I felt? I thought you died because of my own failure!" Her tone was obstinate, unyielding. "You asked my friends to lie to me!"

"I have already apologized for worrying you, but I am not sorry for what I did. It was the right decision. My conscience is clean."

"But you went too far. Anders hired assassins to keep me out of Minrathous, at your behest, I might add!"

"He what?!" Fenris shouted, holding her at arms length.

"He hired them to kidnap him. His ransom was for me to return to Kirkwall."

Fenris creased his brow. "You are joking. I have trouble believing even the abomination is that stupid."

"I wish I was."

He shook his head. "I told him to tell you I was dead. Anything after that is his own treachery."

"I see." she said. "But you still told Varric and Anders to lie to me. Should I just ignore that part?"

Fenris sighed. "I did not know who you would find if you followed me to Minrathous. You know that. If Danarius had..." his voice trailed off and he swiped his chin with the broad of his hand. "I didn't want that burden to fall on you. I know you. You would have done what was necessary, but it would have killed you inside."

She looked away from him miserably. "Ah."

"Have no shame." he said. "There was nothing you could have done."

"I could have been less foolhardy. I failed you." she said quietly.

"You _savaged _Danarius beyond recognition and freed me from my captivity. That is victory, Hawke. That is success. I am _proud _of you."

She peeked up at him through her lashes. "How can you say that? It was my fault you were taken in the first place."

"I chose my fate. Do you understand? As a free man I decided that I would rather live in servitude than let him take you. I would do it again in a heartbeat." he said, unsure if it was the liquor or Hawke that was making him so brave.

She closed her eyes for a moment. He knew it would take some time for Hawke to fully accept it. Perhaps she never would, but it was a start. "I'd prefer if you didn't." she laughed. There was a glistening in the corner of her eye that might have been tears.

He chuckled, then he traced her jaw with his finger, turning her to face him once again. "If I am honest, I have never wanted you safe and sound. You are a dangerous woman. Impulsive, strong, brave to the last. That is how I want you. You are never so beautiful to me as when you are spattered in the blood of your foes." He hadn't meant it to be a confession, but it felt like one, and it felt good to finally say it aloud. Hawke leaned in against him, and he thought that was also good. A positive reaction. "I would not cage you, Hawke. I am not that kind of monster."

"And now my curiosity is piqued. What kind of monster are you? What would you do with me?" she asked cocking a teasing eyebrow.

"A better question might be 'what wouldn't I?'" he paused for dramatic effect. "My mind draws a blank."

"For starters?"

Fenris smirked. "For starters..." and his mouth covered hers insistently. He'd meant it all. There was more he wanted to say, but now was not the time or the place. Now he was happy just to be in her arms again.

"You're not a monster at all." she folded her arms in mock disappointment. "You're too sweet."

"Sweet? That is one I have not heard before."

"It's true, and it seems to increase with drink." she said, licking his ear from the lobe to the point. This resulted in an embarrassment of pleasure, and he let out a quivering sigh. "Too bad you don't like the grog. I could possibly get used to it."

"Liquor is liquor. I have no real cause for complaint, only...keep doing that, if you please." he said breathlessly.

* * *

He didn't remember either of them falling asleep, but he woke freezing and falling off the edge of the bed. Hawke was sprawled across the mattress like a starfish, hogging the covers. He thought this must be one of those things that drove men to madness about women, but he was having difficulty thinking of it as anything but endearing coming from Hawke.

He pulled her closer, and once she stopped growling and became pliant, he stole a little of the blanket for himself. He kissed her on the cheek, feeling a little too pleased of his triumph. She purred in approval and pressed herself against him. Fenris felt a coil of desire stirring inside and he had to adjust his leggings to accommodate the awkward new growth.

He wanted Hawke, but wanting Hawke was an inherently selfish desire. Wanting Hawke meant wanting all of Hawke. It would not do to have some of her love, or even most of it. He did not blame her for her time with Anders, but when the time came he wanted her to forget that the abomination even existed. He did not want to have have to worry about who she was thinking of when he was inside her. He wasn't even sure if this was a legitimate concern, but he didn't care to chance it.

His arm nudged her and she grumbled.

"Fenrusss?" she slurred, either from drink or sleep. There was a note of concern, as though she wondered if he would still be there.

"I am here, Hawke. Go back to sleep. It is early yet." She turned, settling in against his chest. He stroked her back until her breathing became even again.

The sun crept listlessly up the horizon. A beam of light intruded through the tiny window and warmed him until he drifted off to sleep, himself. He dreamt a very mundane, very typical dream about flying. It was a fine reprieve from what he had grown accustomed to.


	68. All Before Breakfast

**Hawke**

The sun blinded her as she stepped out of Fenris' cabin. She didn't want to leave him alone, but she was starving and perhaps if she was quick and quiet about it, she could surprise him with breakfast. But the glare of sun in her eyes meant she did not see Anders waiting for her outside the door, pacing and pulling on his hair. She ran right into him and fell over.

"Ow. Sorry." she said, pushing herself up off the ground. She extended her hand to help him up, but he merely gave her a disgusted look and stood on his own.

"Good morning." he said, as though it were anything but, or it wouldn't be by the time he was done with her. She'd heard that tone a time or two before, but never with the edge of revulsion she heard now. She braced herself for whatever was about to come out of his mouth. She had no doubt it would be stupid.

"And a good morning to you." she said sweetly as she could.

"Yes, it must be, seeing where you just came from."

_Ah. So that's what this is about._ She thought. "Problem?" she sighed, hoping to get the ordeal over with and get back to her sleeping elf.

"Oh, _not at all._" he said bitterly. "I only wanted to make sure that you were alright. You must be so tired, running from one lover to the next. Maybe you should stop and catch your breath."

"Excuse me?" she growled.

"You heard me. So, I wonder. Was that part about not rushing into things only for my benefit or are you genuinely unable to control yourself?"

She laughed a cruel, angry laugh. "I'm going to give you one warning: stop talking now."

"Or what? You'll go berserk and rip me apart? Do it. Kill me now. It's better than having to see you with him."

"Nothing happened, not that it's any of your business."

"Really? So you didn't just walk out of his cabin wearing the same clothes you wore yesterday" he scrunched his nose "and smelling like alcohol? That's just my imagination?"

"I don't owe you any explanation. Unless you've forgotten, we're no longer together!"

He gave her a hurt expression. "But we _belong_ together, love. Can't you see that? I _belong_ to you and you _belong_ to me." He came in to try and kiss her. She pushed him away. Why was he doing this? Weren't things difficult enough already?

"Oh Maker! You _belong_ in an institution, Anders!"

"Is he bothering you, Hawke?" Fenris yawned, stepping out onto the deck. She rolled her eyes, annoyed that the commotion had woken him. "I can dispose of him, if that is your wish."

"That won't be necessary. He was just leaving, weren't you, Anders?" she asked through gritted teeth.

"Like hell I am." he snapped. He pushed her out of the way to get in Fenris' face. "Face me, homewrecker!"

Fenris looked bored of the outburst already. "I wonder what happened to respecting Hawke's wishes? Are you welshing out of that promise too, or did that only apply to me?"

"You have no right! I was there for her even through the bad times, most of which were caused by you, I might add. She is the world to me!"

"Is that why you treat her like property?" Anders eyes narrowed at the accusation. Fenris waved him off. "Enough of this. Hawke can make her own decisions. Let's hear what she has to say."

"Thank you!" she said, aggravated.

"Hawke, I beg you to reconsider." Anders said. "We had three fantastic years together. You can't say we didn't. I thought we would always..."

She put her hand up. Whatever he was about to say would undoubtedly make things worse. She couldn't bear to hear it. "We're done, Anders. I'm sorry. It's up to you whether or not we'll be able to remain friends, or even work together once we're back in the city, but my affairs are my own. You would do well to remember that in the future."

Anders let his shoulders slump. "If that's what you want." he walked back toward his cabin, but turned a little and said "I will always love you. You can't take that from me."

It hurt her to see him this way. She couldn't give him what he wanted, not when he had lied and hidden so many things from her. She'd given him chance after chance and he'd made her regret each and every one, and then he had the audacity to keep asking for more. Hawke was only human. She had to do what was right for her heart. _  
_

When he was safely out of sight she turned to Fenris with a look of relief. He simply shrugged.

"This is not how I'd hoped you'd wake up." she frowned. "I intended to bring you breakfast."

"That would have been nice."

"You could go back to bed and I could try again."

"No, Hawke. The moment has passed."

"Fine." she sighed. "We could get everyone together for a game of Wicked Grace."

"Will there be more grog involved?" Fenris crossed his arms.

"Most likely."

"Then no. Absolutely not." he grimaced. "The taste of cinnamon persists even now."

"Got any better ideas?"

"Just one." a foreboding smile crept across his features. She felt her heart flutter in her chest.

"Yes. Whatever it is you're thinking, yes. Just don't stop looking at me that way."

His eyebrow twitched upwards. "That's all it takes?"

"Don't get cocky, elf."

* * *

"You've gotten better." he wiped his arm across his forehead, wicking away the sweat. "You've been practicing."

She grinned. "You noticed." she said, bringing her axe down in an arc in front of his nose.

"Still, for all your strength, I get five hits for every one of yours."

She panted. "It's a different skillset."

"I see." he said parrying another blow and landing three of his own. "Yours involves being slow and quick to tire."

"It gets the job done. That's all that matters."

He did a tight turn, knocking her axe from her hands and pinned her against the wall with his blade against her throat. "Is that so?" His lips came dangerously close to hers.

Her jaw jutted forward and she blew her hair out of her eyes. "It seems I've finally met my match, then." She swept his legs out from under him and pinned him against the wall instead, turning his blade on himself. "I learned that from you, so I already know your next move. We can do this all day if you want, I'll never tire of the view."

"Hawke, I'm touched." he said softening his brow and smiling. It caught her off-guard.

"W-What?"

And with one fluid movement he disarmed her, sending the sword crashing to the ground. "That my skills have inspired you to such a degree. I didn't know you cared." he knocked her to the floor and bent over her, his fist looming over her face.

"And now you're going to...what exactly? Beat me to death with your bare hands? Strangle me? Snap my neck? No. Not your style."

"I could just do this." he said, grabbing her by the hair and kissing her deeply. It was the most difficult maneuver either of them had accomplished yet, trying to kiss with so much plate in the way. Once or twice his gauntlets cut the skin on the back of her neck, but she didn't complain or pull away.

"That works." she smiled, stretching under him. Her foot was starting to fall asleep. "Shall we take this back to your room or would you rather tease me indefinitely?"

He sat up and backed off of her. "Why? Are you in a rush?"

"No, but let the record show that I _am_ willing."

He snorted. "I'll keep that in mind."

"Ouch." she said. "I guess I came on a little strong."

"No. I just want it to be special."

"You say that as though a night with me wouldn't be." she said. "Double ouch."

"Bah. Let me start again." he sighed. "You were with Anders for three years, yes? And that ended just yesterday? I don't want that to color our...experience. I want you all for myself. Is that so wrong?"

"You're right." she admitted. The argument earlier had not helped. Seeing Anders on a daily basis was hard enough without him falling apart right in front of her. She shouldn't have expected anything less of him. He was, after all, a sensitive man. Once, she had found that to be one of more charming qualities. Now it was exhausting, heartbreaking, borderline irritating.

"It's certainly not for lack of wanting you." he added, pulling her to her feet. He stared into her eyes in a way that made her feel weak in the knees, like she might fall back down again. "I do. And I intend to have you most thoroughly when the time is right."

"Oh." she said, losing her faculty of speech. "Uhm...oh."

"Eloquent."

"You're an awful, evil little elf, you know that?"

"I can live with that."


	69. When in Rivain

**Fenris**

His eyes shot open at the sound of his door creaking. It was a force of habit his body just couldn't break. He smiled. "What's the excuse this time, Hawke?"

"Must I have one?" she asked sweetly.

"In that case, why don't you just sleep here in the first place? Or do you prefer to wake me every night?"

"The others would talk." she climbed on top of him to straddle his hips.

He laughed, placing his hands on her thighs. "They already talk."

"But they're wrong."

"Are they?" he quirked an eyebrow and looked her up and down. "Is this how you wake everyone on the ship? I no longer feel special."

She leaned forward and kissed him lightly on the lips. "I can make you feel special, if that's what you want."

"Tempting." he said. "How many nights is this?"

"I don't know, sixteen? Seventeen? Why? How many nights before you stop resisting me?"

"However many it takes, Hawke." he sighed. It was getting increasingly difficult to say no to her. He was worried she would see it as an insult, but she seemed to think it was some sort of challenge. Fenris was finding that he rather enjoyed this line of thinking, as frustrating as it was. It was almost as fun as seeing how flustered she got when he bested her with his own advances.

"What do I need to do?" she whined, rolling her hips on him. "I feel like I might explode."

"You'll live." he smirked.

"But will you, I wonder?" she inched backward and rubbed her face on his erection through his leggings. His body responded against his will by pushing back against her. She gave him a throaty chuckle. "This can stop whenever you want it to. All you have to do is _give in_."

"And let you win?" he shook his head. "I told you, when the time is right..."

"You'll take me so hard the earth will shake and a giant tsunami will swallow the ship and we'll all die a horrible death and the fish will feast upon our entrails. I know." she said in a bored voice.

"That would be impressive." he said rolling on top of her. "And more than a little tragic."

"At least we'd die doing what we loved."

"True." he said kissing her neck, chancing to wonder if by "what" she meant him or the sex. "I can certainly think of worse ways to die. I just hope I can live up to your high expectations."

* * *

They had to pay thirty silver a head to be allowed to dock in Seere, much to Isabela's protest. She'd hoped her heritage could carry some weight, but with a smuggler's ship and eighteen slaves on board, there were some questions asked. Hawke begrudgingly doled out the gold and decided to go sight-seeing.

He'd been to many places, but Rivain was quite another story. Everyone was so flashy, with their piercings and tattoos and bright vestige. Orange and deep purple with gold embroidery seemed to be quite popular. Men sat in the open, telling stories and waxing poetic to anyone who would stop and listen. Children ran amok in the street, and no one seemed to mind.

A man played his drum with gusto while his wife sang. A young woman with beads and feathers draped around her neck ran over to take Hawke's hand and dance with her, as though it was the most natural thing in the world. Hawke seemed delighted by it. She made a great show of dipping and twirling the girl in a manner that might have been considered unseemly back in Kirkwall. Fenris cocked his eyebrow with amusement while the others clapped in time with the drum. He was enjoying the show right up until the point where the girl pulled Hawke into a full-on, open-mouthed kiss at the end of the song, to the sound of boisterous laughter and cheers. He grabbed Hawke by the arm and pulled her away, giggling and waving.

"Well. That was...interesting." he said, feigning indignation.

"Oh, lighten up." she smiled. "We were just having some fun."

He chuckled. "I'm not so sure about that. She seemed quite taken by you."

"And why not? I know how to please a woman." she winked at him. "I've been helping myself for nearly a month now, after all."

"Yes, but...what?" his eyes shot up at her. She gave him a malicious grin. "Oh, very funny, Hawke."

He was surprised to see so many elves in Seere, and they lived among the dark skinned natives relatively unnoticed. Elven and Rivaini children played together, chasing one another through market stalls or braiding each others' hair. Hawke pointed out a caramel colored girl with missing teeth and skinned knees. The girl approached a timid looking elven boy and gave him a sweet little kiss on the cheek. They both blushed and ran away from each other. Hawke turned and seemingly inspired, kissed him in a similar manner. He did blush, but neither of them ran away. She just squeezed his hand in hers and continued walking beside him.

It made him wonder what the people of Kirkwall would think when they found out that he and Hawke were together. Their differences were superficial, but small people often dwelt upon such things. He knew he would not be easily accepted among the nobility. He found he did not truly care, except to hope his status did not drag her down. As much as she liked to deny it, Hawke was actually very proud of how far she'd come since she'd left Fereldan. He didn't want to take that from her, but he knew she'd give it all up in a moment if she were asked to choose between that life and him. He hoped it wouldn't come to that.

"I think I like it here." she said, smiling.

"It's certainly colorful."

"Now I understand where Isabela gets it from."

"I heard that!" Isabela said. "I'll have you know that I'm not even from Seere."

"Is Llomeryn so different?" Hawke asked.

"Llomeryn is rough, dirty, untamed. I am the epitome of Llomeryn. This place is definitely not Llomeryn."

"Thank the Maker for small blessings." Hawke muttered.

"Not here you don't. People in Rivain don't believe in the Maker."

"When in Rivain, I guess." Hawke said, shrugging. "Do you think you can handle the supplies on your own, Isabela?"

"I could. What's in it for me?"

Hawke groaned and handed her some gold. "Don't spend it all in one place."

* * *

Hawke seemed to take great interest in every passing attraction in the market square. She listened to a bard spin a tale about the Hero of Fereldan's adventures down in the Deep Roads. Then she watched a man swallow swords and a girl juggle flaming batons. Fenris just watched _her_.

A woman with elaborately braided hair beaded with little cowry shells approached her and offered to read her fortune. Hawke responded by placing what was probably way too much coin on the woman's table and patiently awaiting her divination.

The woman seemed to be in her forties, but there was a very old quality about her. She had a tattoo on her face that made her lips and nose look feline and her lip was pierced. Fenris remembered hearing stories about Rivaini seers during his time with the Fog Warriors and how they communed with the Fade itself, like a living entity. A chill ran up his spine.

The fortune teller began setting up her altar. She sprinkled salt in the top right corner, an incense burner in the top left, a candle in the bottom left and a bowl of water in the bottom right. She placed a crystal ball in the center of the table. With no small amount of gravitas, she turned to Hawke and asked "are you ready, child?"

"I am."

It was all very hocus pocus for Fenris. A gimmick to lure the gullible and loose of coin. Hawke was certainly the latter, but he doubted she actually believed in the smoke and mirror fantasy. Her eyes conveyed little more than curiosity and idle fancy, about as much as they had all day with every other parlor trick and sleight of hand game they'd chanced upon. He found it quite dull, actually, but he wouldn't deprive Hawke of her entertainment.

"I see a great battle. You will see victory there, but at a great cost. Innocents will die, but by your hand many more will be saved. You will be chased from your home. Some will call you murderer, but many more will know the truth. They will call you savior. There will be no safe place for you."

Hawke nodded, urging her to continue.

"I see a vast jungle surrounded by crystalline waters. A secret place. A quiet place." Fenris' ears perked remembering his dream. "There are many elves here, and they call you friend, guardian."

"What about children?" Hawke asked.

The woman studied the orb some more and shook her head. "There are children. Elven children. It is unclear whether any of them are yours or not. You are not meant to play the role of wife and mother, even if these things come to pass. Your way is the path of the hero. Do not diverge from it and there is romance and glory to be had."

"I see." Hawke sounded more than a little disappointed. He never knew she even wanted children.

"Do not sound so surprised. You have never been able to stand around while the innocent suffer. Is that not so?"

"I suppose it is." Hawke smiled. "Thank you for the reading."

"Do you want me to read for your friend? This is quite a bit of coin here."

Hawke glanced over at Fenris. He sighed, but he saw no harm in it.

The woman scrolled her hands over the ball. "So much pain. You are so weary. I can feel it." she said. "You have lost much of yourself to get here. Most of it cannot be reclaimed. And yet, I see a happy future for you. Love, legacy...freedom, yes. That word is important to you. You are not meant for a quiet life either, but that is not something you desire. I see..." her voice trailed off and she began to look bewildered.

"What? What do you see?" Hawke asked, staring at the ball in suspense, as though it might divulge it's secrets to her.

The fortune teller's eyes met his. "You have seen it already. The dragon, the chantry windows, the statue. You have been there. Slipped through the Fade and through time itself. What do you need me for?"

Fenris sneered. _Foul magic is at work here._ "It is time to go, Hawke." He took her by the hand and began to leave.

"You know it to be true." the fortune teller said. "The Fade lives within you."

"Silence, witch." Fenris snapped.

"Are you alright?" she asked when they were in sight of the ship.

"I am fine." he said.

"What was that all about?"

"It was a farce, Hawke. You've been had."

She didn't say anything else and he was glad of it.


	70. Seere is for Lovers

**Instead of sleeping last night, I named all of my chapters. In retrospect, it could have waited until morning but the incessant coughing was keeping me up anyway. **

**This chapter is dedicated to paulaH, for being my very first follower with the most ::ahem:: discerning tastes. Your outspoken nature has saved my muse on more than one occasion. I consider you a friend. Thanks for taking the time to pm me your opinion so often. I might still get some of these embroidered and framed for my wall. Cheers! :)**

**Hawke**

Morning broke and outside the ship there was a parade. Hawke peeked out the window. Women and men danced with gauzy sashes of every color and pattern she could imagine, and they painted their bodies to resemble animals and plants.

She snuck out onto the deck to watch and found Isabela and Merrill dancing on the docks.

"What's going on?"

"It's the Festival of Flowers." Merrill said, as though Hawke should know this already.

"Yes, of course. Erh, what is that?" she asked.

"It's a Rivaini holiday. People gather in the street to celebrate love and life, and say goodbye to the warm embrace of summertime." Isabela answered.

"Interesting. And how do they celebrate, besides having a parade?"

Isabela stopped dancing with Merrill. "You see those sashes they're dancing with?" Hawke nodded. "They give them to each other as gifts, each color has a specific meaning. Green is for prosperity, yellow is for friendship, purple is for fertility, orange is for passion, blue is for luck, red is for love."

"And then what?"

"And then you tie Fenris to the bed with it and do unspeakable things to him."

"Really? They all do that? I should go have a word with him about that."

"Well, I don't know. What else do you use sashes for? It's not a very popular holiday in Llomeryn. Too touchy-feely, I guess."

"Hm." Hawke said. "I should get him one."

"You really think Fenris will go for that?" she asked. "Dancing in the street with a sash? Not that the image isn't appealing."

"He doesn't have to dance."

"Then what's the point, Hawke? You're no fun at all."

* * *

A _Red sash. Red for love._ She thought to herself. Maybe he won't read into it. It wasn't the first time she'd given him a red piece of cloth. Was this so different? Maybe he'd think she just liked the color red. _Or maybe he'll take one look at it and run away screaming._

To her delight he was still asleep when she came back, and he didn't stir when she entered the room. Perhaps he was finally letting his guard down. He looked so harmless and innocent while he slept. It made her almost regret what she did next.

She straddled his hips, and his eyes fluttered open. He stretched under her and bent his long legs behind her back, propping his head up on his arms. It was too soon to tell how he'd respond to being woken up, but the lack of foreign curses was a good sign, she hoped.

"Good morning." she said softly.

"Mmm." he said, his voice extra gravelly from sleep. "Prove it."

She reached into her pocket and pulled out the parcel, handing it to him cautiously. He raised an eyebrow but pushed himself up onto his elbows, then sat up against the headboard.

"A gift?" he asked.

She nodded. "Open it."

He tugged the twine until the bow untied and carefully unfolded the paper, as though he intended to use it again later. He grasped the fabric, and began to study it, rubbing it between his fingers, dropping it more than a couple times. He said nothing.

"As it turns out, today is a holiday. Some kind of Rivaini festival. Very colorful. Anyway, it's customary to give sashes as a gift and I thought you might want one, as a keepsake." He seemed unsurprised.

"Red." he noted aloud.

"Yes." she said stupidly.

"Is there some significance to this color? Or are you just partial to it."

She cleared her throat. "Erh, a little of both."

"Ah." he said, wrapping the scarf around his arm. "And what does 'red' mean to you, Hawke?"

_Oh Maker, he saw right through it._ "What do you think it means?"

"I know what it means." he said.

"Oh."

"I want you to say it."

Her tongue suddenly felt too big for her mouth and she didn't know where to put it. She swallowed hard. Her heart began palpitating, and she felt out of breath. Her eyes darted around the room, inventorying the items she saw. _Candle, teacup, empty bottle, Fenris, plume, breastplate, dagger, Fenris, book, Fenris, sash, Fenris, Fenris. Fenris._

"Say it." he commanded, making direct eye contact.

She pressed her palm into her thighs trying to push herself off him, but he grabbed her by the waist. She closed her eyes to keep the room from swaying. "Look at me." he said. _When did he get so bossy?_ She opened her eyes and stared down at him, hoping he'd forgotten what they were talking about. He was the picture of patience. He would wait all day for her to say whatever it was she was going to say, if only she could think of it.

And that's when her mouth opened of it's own accord and said "I'm in love with you, Fenris." emphasizing each word like it was it's own sentence, like they meant something by themselves.

If that was what he expected to hear from her, he didn't act like it. There was an audible gasp and his eyebrows disappeared behind his hair.

"Sorry." she said, as though she'd stepped on his foot or eaten the last apple in the basket. _Sorry?!_ Her brain screamed. _Sorry?!_ _Stupid, stupid woman! Stop talking!_

"You are sorry?" he asked.

"Please don't go." she said.

He laughed right then. H_e's laughing at me._ She thought. _Maker, kill me now._ She willed herself to dissolve into a puddle of goo, but that didn't work, so she tried to get up and leave again, but his hands were still holding her in place and she wondered if they were glued to her sides or something.

Then his knees descended and she could feel his hardness straining against his clothes. His hand reached up and pulled her by the hair into a slow sweet kiss, and he turned her over onto her back, pressing himself against her through entirely too many layers of clothing. As though reading her mind he untied her soft breeches and pulled them down past her knees, pressing a fervent kiss on her mound. He looked up at her with apprehension in his eyes, but she reached down and stroked his cheek in adoration. "You don't have to say anything you don't want to."

He pressed his lips against her skin and said barely above a whisper "I love you, Hawke."

She pulled him on top of her, wanting to kiss, wanting to be tangled with him until they could no longer be uncoupled without divine intervention. He pulled her blouse off and he unclasped her breast band, bending his neck to suck an insistent nipple into his warm lips, biting it gently and then blowing a puff of cool air onto it until it hardened like a pebble. His clever fingers delved into her folds, discovering her body once again. His other hand roamed, grasping, clasping, pinching, everywhere upon her until it took her hand and placed it on his stiff member.

With a smooth pull of a string she unlaced his leggings and tugged until Fenris acquiesced and pulled them down over his hips and knees and finally threw them on the ground, out of the way. She pulled his tunic over his head and tossed it beside the rest of the discarded clothing, as though she were disgusted by it's presence. She got up on her knees and began stroking him as he placed ardent kisses on her neck and shoulders and massaged her breasts.

Her eyes roamed over him, savoring every inch of his toned physique and maybe lingering on his markings more than she should have. As much as she hated what was done to him, she couldn't help but find them startlingly beautiful. He sensed her curiosity and took her hand, choosing a solitary finger from the others, and bringing it up to one of the longest of the brands. He nodded.

First she traced around it, unsure. He watched her with quiet interest follow the elaborate curls around his abdominals with her eyes and the branches that wrapped around his hipbones. Then dreamily she brushed her fingertip against it. His eyes snapped shut but he did not pull away, so she kissed it.

"Does that hurt?" she asked, almost afraid to know the answer.

"No." he said.

"How does it feel, then?"

He seemed to think about it for a moment. He licked his lips and said "Safe. Like home." and then after a moment he said "Like you."

And her lips parted to kiss him. She was somewhere lost in white hair, in warm breath and skin and roaming hands and she wanted only to remain. He pushed her onto her back again and her legs wrapped around him. His fingers teased her dewy lips open, and she groaned into his mouth. She caressed a remembered path along his back where she could reach, where she knew the dots and looping arms of his brands were most dense and intricate. He gasped and she bit his bottom lip, pulling him back into another kiss. He growled and bit back, much harder than she had. Everything had to be a challenge.

But Hawke was not submissive. She would not roll over while Fenris had his way with her, and he would probably find it boring if she did. It was the struggle that made their passion interesting, and Hawke did not intend to make things easy for him.

She nipped his earlobe hard and bucked her hips against his, enjoying the ragged moan that escaped his lips. He narrowed his eyes at her and she grinned, quite satisfied with herself. He snorted and bent to bite her nipple and lapped at it with his tongue until her toes curled.

She rolled him over and crawled down his body. With very little warning she took the entire length of his cock into her mouth. She pulled it out slowly and deliberately, swirling her tongue over the sensitive head a few times, then stopped. He grunted, angry.

"Exasperating." he said.

"Now you know how I've felt for over a month now." she laughed.

"So why do you tarry and provoke me? It's maddening."

"You'll live." she said, mimicking him.

He climbed on top of her and pulled her legs around him, looking unamused. "No more games, Hawke." he said. He positioned himself at her entrance and sheathed himself in her, inch by sweet inch. He kissed her mouth and ate her groan. He held her by the hips and found a percussion to match their need, plunging deeper into her depths with each stroke.

She dug her nails into his back, no longer bothering to watch his markings. He gave her a very surly snarl and crashed into her wetness without mercy. She whimpered a little and he laughed into her neck, something between cruelness and affection, it vibrated against her flesh and it made her tingle and throb for him. "Fenris." she purred.

He answered by thrusting harder into her. Her sighs were already becoming erratic and her fingers clutched at the sheets to fight from completing yet. She fought to control the pace with which he fell into her.

Fenris smirked down at her. "Do not resist." he said, and he pulled her by the hips onto his cock without relenting. "Say it again."

He dipped deep inside her again and again until she could no longer hold on, allowing herself to be swept up in the tempest that was overwhelming her senses. She let go on him, spasming and shuddering and letting out little raspy moans of ecstasy. "I love you!" she cried, probably alerting the entire ship and all of Seere in the process.

He slammed into her with punishing force, wanting to feel his own release. Her fingers trailed along the markings on his hips and lower abdomen, pushing him closer and closer to his edge, discordant gasps and growls escaping from the back of his throat. "I love you, Fenris." she whispered to him and he came with a feral groan, a quiver and a kiss.

"Well met." she said raising an eyebrow.

"Be quiet, Hawke." he said with mock irritation.

She was more than a little sad when he pulled out of her, but he grabbed her up in his arms, drawing the covers over them both. He stroked her forearm haphazardly, taking sweet kisses from her lips whenever it struck his fancy in a way that was both unexpected and undeniably Fenris. Hawke was not aware that he could be this tender, but it was a welcome discovery.

She started to drift off to sleep, lazing in the lambency of their love, but Fenris reached for something under the bed and jostled her awake. She peeked through her slitted eyelids at him. He was holding a package, not entirely unlike the one she'd given him. He turned to her and shoved it into her hands unceremoniously. "Here." he said. A gift. She took the package apprehensively, trying not to make a fuss over it, knowing that Fenris would not appreciate too much gravity over what he probably considered a simple gesture.

She did not treat the package with the same meticulousness that he did, Hawke was not that kind of person. Instead, she tore off the paper and threw it to the ground carelessly. She gasped when she found that it was a sash. A red sash. Just like the one she got him.

"Red." she said, grinning.

Fenris snorted. "Yes." But it didn't sound so stupid coming from him.

"It's perfect." she said.

Fenris looked away. "It was nothing, Hawke."

"Not to me."

"It is exactly the same as the one you got me."

"But this one came from _you_." she said, kissing him on the lips. When she pulled away to look at him she smiled from ear to ear.

"What's funny?" he asked.

She cupped his face in her hands, running her thumb along his cheek all the way to the point of his ears. "Red." she said.

"You are exaggerating." he said.

"It's a good color for you." she smirked.

"I do not blush." he frowned.

"Whatever you say." she said. "Just tie it on me." she proffered her wrist. He glanced at the appendage with a look of suspicion, but after a moment or two he took it and swathed it in the diaphanous material, wrapping it once, twice, three times and then tying it in a knot against the creamy skin on the underside of her forearm. He raised her hand to his lips and kissed her palm in the same way she had kissed his so many years ago, and she wondered if he remembered that moment as well as she did or if he just wanted to kiss her. Either way, she was happy.

She admired the favor and reached out for his hand, setting their wrists side by side for comparison. She clasped his hand in hers, entwining her fingers with his and smiled. "I want to show them off now."

"What do you mean?" Fenris asked.

"Let's join the party." Hawke said. "Do as the locals for a night."

Hawke expected him to deny her outright, or at least protest and reluctantly give in, but all he said was "as you desire, Hawke." in a way that almost made her want to change her mind and make love to him again. He was already up, already putting his clothing on and she was excited to show him off.


	71. Dirty Dancing

**Short fluffy chapter today. :)**

**Fenris**

She'd gotten a school of tiny silver and blue fish painted across her face which made her eyes stand out. She danced and drank and laughed, and kept stealing peeks at him when she thought he wasn't looking. He was always looking.

At the end of the night she had dozens of sashes around her neck and tied on her belt, in every color of the spectrum. But she kept reaching down to touch and worry at the one around her wrist. His heart skipped a beat each and every time.

Finally he could hold back no longer and asked her for a dance, bowing to kiss her hand in the way the other men and women had. The smile he was met with was the most beautiful he'd ever seen, so beautiful he wondered if he was dreaming again. His mind was joggled back into reality, however, when Hawke began leading him through the steps.

"You are leading." he said coolly.

"You're observant."

"I feel rather emasculated."

"I'm stronger than you. It makes sense for me to lead." she dipped him backward in a very unladylike manner.

"Humiliating." he sighed. There was a twinkle in her eye that told him Hawke was in one of her moods, and there was nothing to do but go along with it. "And utterly typical."

She laughed. "You did say you enjoyed following me." She lifted her arm to twirl him.

"What is this?" he gestured at her arm with a look of suspicion. "What are you doing with your arm there?"

"Now you twirl." she smiled.

"Oh, you are very mistaken."

"Come on, it'll be fun."

"I do not twirl, Hawke." he scowled.

"Please?" she batted her eyelashes.

"I do _not _twirl." he furrowed his brow. "Enough. You test my patience. Let me lead."

"You're so bossy." she shook her head. "Fine. Lead on, you grump." His eyes softened and he began to turn her in a simple waltz. The music quickened and soon they were spinning at a dizzying pace. Hawke rested her head on his shoulder.

"Better." he said.

"If by 'better' you mean 'more boring.'"

"I am a _man_, Hawke..."

"Well it's been a few hours, I may have forgotten."

"...and you are a woman. A very bad-mannered, foul-tempered woman with a giant axe, but a woman no less."

"Really? A woman? Are you certain? I had no idea."

"Hawke..." he groaned.

"This explains so many things..."

He could see she was getting out of control. It was too late to rein her in at this point. Perhaps pleading would help. "Hawke..."

"Like why I have to sit down to..."

He clamped his hand down over her mouth, looking around to see if anyone had heard. "Vishante kaffas! Have a care, woman!" She raised an eyebrow at him then kissed the palm of his hand. He rolled his eyes, stifling a smile. "You are ridiculous."

"I'll thank you to remember it." she grinned.

"What have I gotten myself into?"

* * *

She was tired when they got back to the ship. She kissed him on the cheek and her feet threatened in a direction away from his cabin. He put his hand on her shoulder. "Hawke, stay."

"Hmm?" she mumbled sleepily.

"Stay." he said. "With me."

"Tonight?" she asked.

"Tonight. Tomorrow night. Every night after that. And be here when I awake."

"Fenris, the others..." she yawned.

His temper flared. He was tired of hiding. He'd fought tooth and nail to be able to love her and love her he would. As far as he was concerned, the rest of the world could just deal with it. "The others!" he spat. "A blight on the others! What do I care of the others?" He pulled her into his embrace, turning her chin up to look him in the eye. "Are you ashamed of me?" He knew the answer already, but he wanted to make a point.

"Of course not! I love you!"

A pang of desire washed over him. The words still surprised and perplexed him, and he knew he'd never grow tired of hearing them. "Then stop seeking their validation. They know already. How could they not with the way I look at you?"

"The way you look at me?" she asked.

He took her hand in his. "Each one of your friends owes you a life debt. They will accept us. It is the least they can do."

"I just don't want them to question what we have. I was with Anders not so long ago."

He sighed. "Stay or don't. I will not ask you again."

She kissed him on his chin. "And what do I get out of it?"

"You get me. I thought that was fairly obvious. Or isn't that enough?"

"I already have that. What else is there?" she smiled, and he saw a mischievous sparkle in her eye.

He palmed his face. "More of this? I thought you had tired yourself out."

"You love it."

"It is confusing, Hawke."

"Not at all. Here, let me refresh your memory: you are a man, and I am a woman."

"The point, if you will?"

"It's basic anatomy, Fenris. They didn't teach you this in sexy elf school?"

"Anatomy." he repeated. "You've lost me."

"You see, when a man loves a woman very, very much, he sticks his..."

"Ah." he said, hoping she wouldn't continue. "I believe I can manage that."

"Can you now? Would you be so kind as to prove it?"

"As you say." he snorted. He bent to lift her and carry her back to their cabin. Suddenly no one was very tired.


	72. Beast with Two Backs

**Hawke**

There was a package sitting on the bed with a letter from Anders. She knew it was from Anders because of the particular way he folded the paper, first in half, then in thirds. Hawke Estate was littered with pages folded in this way, all with snippets of Anders' manifesto. Hawke kicked it onto the floor so Fenris wouldn't see. That was the last thing she needed, Anders ruining the moment.

She tried not to let it distract her while Fenris disrobed her and kissed his way down her body until she could feel his warm breath on her lower lips. He looked up at her, for encouragement perhaps, and brushed his hand against the inside of her thigh. She opened her legs for him, making her request clear.

He ran a solitary finger along her slit but never delved, seeming to take pleasure in the sound of her needful gasps until it verged on torment.

"Fenris stop teasing." she groaned. He pulled his fingers away and shrugged, as if to garner a reaction. She grumbled and began to touch herself.

"You are impatient." he said, pushing her hand away. He feathered her mound with soft kisses.

"Eat me." she said. It was both a swear and a demand, she hoped he'd gather her meaning.

"That is the idea." he snorted, then his face became serious. "Hawke, I have never done this before."

"Are you worried that it will jump out and bite you on the nose?"

He furrowed his brow. "Is everything a joke with you?"

"Mostly." she said, sighing. "You've never let me down before. If need be, I'll give direction but I'm not concerned. Now lick."

He smiled a little and pushed her knees further apart. He thrust his middle finger inside her all the way to the knuckle and began slowly easing his tongue past her lips. She graced him with a largess of gasps. He found her sopping and throbbing with desire and kissed her swollen pearl, taking a moment to gingerly nibble on it's delicate hood.

He pushed another finger inside and this felt very, very nice, so Hawke moaned in approval. He sipped at the arousal that seeped through, spreading it over her nub with his tongue and began flicking at it with varying pressure.

Once he seemed positive that she wouldn't bite, indeed, he submerged his face fully in her folds, and lapped at her with enthusiastic licks. He groaned into her, his deep voice vibrating through her. She squealed and her thighs clenched around his cheeks involuntarily at the sound. He chuckled darkly at her reaction.

"You are having entirely too much fun." he said, peeking up at her.

"Less talking, if it pleases you!" she growled.

He smirked and obliged her, nudging at her bud with his nose and lips until she became very breathy and she could feel herself swelling and pulsing on his clever mouth. A wave of bliss and sweet agony took her by surprise, and another followed, sending her over the edge into euphoria. Her back arched and her inner muscles contracted around his fingers. She trembled.

When that was over he slowed, taking precise but infrequent tastes of her until she became too sensitive to allow him to continue, placing her hand in the way.

He crawled on top of her, his hard cock pressing against her opening. His face smelled like her, like satisfaction, and his lips curled in such a brazen, self-impressed smirk that she had to trace the lyrium lines that joined at his chin with her tongue. He tasted like salt and sex and love.

"It's an interesting flavor, yes?" she asked.

"I enjoy it." he said.

She laughed. "I noticed, since you are now knocking at my door. Very doggedly, I might add."

"Will you permit me to enter?" he asked eagerly.

"Well, since you ask so nicely..."

His lips crashed down upon hers as he sank into her soaking core. His eyes rolled back a bit, a very pleasant sight indeed, and his fingers curled around her jaw, deepening the kiss. She reached up to weave her fingers through his hair. His eyes snapped shut and he threw his head back. "Hawke." he groaned. Her name on his lips made her heart race.

His pace was slow and relishing, rising and falling into her with agonizing tenderness. She watched him from under the silver-white veil of hair that brushed along her cheeks and neck. He sighed softly against her lips, and she took it as a cue to steal a kiss. His eyes fluttered open for just a moment and he kissed her back, deeper, more demanding, more intense, as was his signature. She could taste his love, feel it in his arms and the fingers that laced with hers, pressing her hands into the mattress. Her heels dug into the small of his back, urging him to go faster.

"I will not last long if you continue that." he warned. "You are far too inviting right now."

"I refuse to apologize for giving you pleasure." she said into his neck.

He laughed and continued to penetrate, watching her breasts bounce along to the rhythm of their passion. When she chanced to look at him, he was drinking in the sight of her.

Hawke felt herself edging towards climax again. His lips fell everywhere upon her face and neck, and she his breath became inconstant as well. With a few more thrusts they culminated together, pawing and gasping and seizing and swearing.

His head came to rest on hers, spent and exhausted. She reached up and tucked a tuft of hair behind his ear, but it fell free and the ends brushed against her cheek.

"I have a desire for some wine, now." he said.

She snickered. "When do you not?"

"True. Sometimes other desires take priority, but there is always an underlying need for good wine."

"So I'm your second choice. I'll try not to be jealous." she teased.

"You are second to none, Hawke." He said. He kissed her on the forehead and dismounted, then began pulling some pants on. "But the thought of having you and a fine vintage in my bed at the same time is beyond lavish. I shall try to find something worthy of you in this heathen city."

"You're a snob."

"When was the last time you drank a bottle of Rivaini wine?" he quirked an eyebrow. "Never, I imagine. I know I haven't."

"True."

He kissed her once more. "I will be back shortly."

"See that you are."

When she could no longer hear his footsteps on the floorboards outside the door, she reached for the parcel and began unwrapping it, hastily. Inside there was a yellow sash with birds embroidered on it in silver thread. It was quite lovely, actually. Anders always did have an eye for beautiful things.

She unfolded the letter, wondering if she should read it at all, or if it would only make her angry. She decided that she owed it to Anders to at least read the letter, and she could decide later what to do with it.

_Hawke,_

_You must hate me for being such a bloody idiot these past few weeks. I'm sorry things ended up the way they did. I wish I could take it back, but I can't. I'll always love you. You are everything to me. That being said, I understand why you left. Now I'm happy just to be a part of your life in any fashion. Please accept this token of my friendship. If you should ever change your mind, I have an identical one in red to give you. Don't worry, I won't be holding my breath. _

_Always yours,_

_Anders_

She was glad Anders was finally moving on. Their encounters were becoming more and more awkward as time wore on. Lately he'd been trying to avoid making eye contact with her altogether. It was very uncomfortable. She was now hopeful that they could finally move past this.

She became distracted, turning the sash over in her hands again and again, lost in thought. For how long, she could not say. She wondered what it would be like if he hadn't betrayed her. She realized that Anders, for all his good intentions, had always made bad decisions with his life. He was unable to look at the bigger picture. Perhaps they were doomed before they even began.

Fenris walked in and she didn't notice, too lost in her own thoughts. He knelt down in front of her, placing the bottle on the ground in front of him and pulling the paper from her hands. "What's this?" he asked.

She blinked. "Letter from Anders."

He opened the letter and began reading it. She watched his lips mouth the words silently, wondering if she should take it from him. It was obviously meant for her eyes only, but she didn't want any secrets between them. "What is this word?" he pointed.

"Identical." she said.

He nodded and continued scanning the page. When he was finished he folded it back up and creased the edges. "Interesting." He snorted.

"Not really, but I'm glad he's alright now."

"The abomination has never been alright." he snorted.

"Maker, can you just stop it already?" she snapped. She was tired of the constant sniping and offhand comments. "I get it, you don't like him. Can you at least try and be civil for the sake of the group? For me?"

"He slings more than his own share of barbs."

"Be the bigger man, Fenris."

"Surely you can see why I might take issue with him?"

"I chose you. I _love_ you. Tell me it's enough."

His bowed his head in reluctant agreement. "It is. I apologize. I did not realize it troubled you so."

She cupped his cheek. "I forgive you. Now, what did you bring me."

He turned back toward the bottle, bringing it up to his eyes to read the label. "Treviso Reserva Especial." he answered. "Antivan." as if that needed to be said. "It is supposed to be full-bodied with smoke and honey flavors. Hopefully not too cloyingly sweet." He bit down on the cork and pulled it out of the bottle smoothly.

"I love it when you do that." she giggled.

"Beg your pardon?" he set the cork down on a table.

"It's a very unrefined thing to do, so unlike you. It's refreshing to watch."

He chuckled. "You are easily amused, Hawke. I do it often enough. I daresay it will begin to lose it's charm in time."

"Nonsense." she smiled. "Do you do anything that is not charming?"

"Nothing that I would care to say in your presence." He gave the bottle a good swirl and took a taste, then seemingly pleased by the discovery, he crossed back over to the bed to pass it to her. "A bit firm, but better than I was expecting."

"I don't mind."

He sat down on the mattress and made himself comfortable. "May I ask you a personal question?"

"Anything."

"Is there a reason why you prefer your family name to your given one?" he asked.

She glanced up at him and sighed, then took a long pull from the bottle without any of the same pretension he'd given it. Hawke never understood the methodology of wine-tasting, all the sniffing and swirling and why would anyone want to bite a liquid? She liked wine well-enough, but she figured it was the tongue's job to decide what it enjoyed, not her entire face. And if her tongue didn't like it, she was just as happy to bypass it altogether and drain the bottle down her throat. It worked for the grog.

She wondered just how many times she would have to have this conversation. Anders had taken it upon himself to call her by her first name whenever he was angry at her, in order to antagonize her. It worked. The only person who she allowed to call her Marian anymore was Bethany, for obvious reasons. "Do I look like a Marian to you?"

"You are a Marian." he said, very matter-of-factly. "What else would a Marian look like, I wonder?"

"A lady, I imagine. A lovely noblewoman in crepe and silk and the like. I'm sure that's what Mother would have wanted. Certainly not a foul-tempered, bad-mannered, giant-axe-wielding berserker woman."

"And you think you more closely resemble a Hawke?"

"Why not? Is it so difficult to picture me as a bird of prey?"

"No more difficult than picturing me as a wolf, I suppose."

"There you go." She handed him the bottle once again. "Why do you ask?"

"Passing curiosity. I think Marian is a pretty name." He took another mouthful of the wine. "Marian." he said, as though he were trying it out. "Marian." She winced.

"My name is Hawke. It's who I am and it's all I have left of my father. Whoever Marian was, if she ever existed at all, she died with him."

Fenris studied her face for a moment, perhaps surprised at her reaction. He nodded. "I understand. Hawke it is, then."

"I appreciate it."


	73. Dead Men Tell No Tales

**Disclaimer: I know next to nothing about ships and seafaring. Anything that makes sense in this chapter is my boyfriend's help. He reads the Aubrey Maturin books, but those take place in the 1800s so I'm not even sure if half of these terms would even be commonplace in the Dragon Age world. Hopefully most of this made sense. **

**Fenris**

Hawke waved goodbye to Seere as they pulled out from the docks, and he couldn't help but see the sadness in her eyes. To him, every city was as good as the next if she was there, but she had grown attached to the smiling natives and the colors and the street performers. He knew she missed Kirkwall to some degree, but there was duty and responsibility waiting for her there. And a dread of not knowing what state the city itself would be in, though she didn't say as much.

Some children stopped and waved back, it made her smile.

"I'm going to miss this place." she said, as though he didn't know.

He took her hand. "There is nothing keeping you from visiting from time to time."

She snorted. "I'm sure the city won't let me off my leash again for a very long time. Meredith and Orsino's pissing match has gone unchecked for so long, I'll still be mopping come next Fall."

"That is a disturbing image, Hawke." Fenris said.

"Appropriate though." she said.

Fenris considered this for a moment. Hawke had always done her best to retain a sense of order among their warring ideologies. Even he had to admit that the First Enchanter was a lot more moderate than the Knight-Commander, but he felt that the Grand Cleric did a stand-up job of keeping Meredith in line when she began to bang the drums. Besides, there was no room for "moderate" where magic was involved. The circle was as much for the good of the mages as for the rest of the world.

It was the one thing he and Hawke could never agree on. He knew if things ever got out of hand, Hawke would choose to side with the mages. Her sister was a mage, the only one he'd ever had any respect for. Her father had been a mage, as well. Under different circumstances, Hawke could have been born a mage herself. Would he love her any less for it? Hawke with lightning crackling at her fingertips and a staff poised to strike? It was difficult to imagine, but he decided that it made no difference what weapon she wielded. He was meant to love her. Hawke was his life.

"You won't have to face it alone." he said. "I am yours, as is my blade."

"I would never ask you to fight for a cause you didn't believe in." she said in a faraway voice. He could tell she was not fully present. She was elsewhere, lost in her thoughts.

He turned her toward him by the shoulders. "This is not a decision I make lightly, Hawke. You have earned my allegiance. I owe you everything and I have a personal interest in seeing that you make it out alive. There is no greater cause. When the time comes, I will fight beside you. Just you try and stop me."

She said nothing, and nothing needed to be said. That was the nature of their relationship. He felt he could talk to her about anything, but he didn't need to. She was there, that was enough. He pulled her in against him and they stayed there like that for several minutes, quietly watching Seere shrink into the horizon.

* * *

They were asleep when it began. Well, Hawke was asleep. Fenris was in some kind of hypnagogic state, where his eyelids would get heavy and then he'd realize he was falling asleep and they would snap open. There he was, toeing the border between sleep and wakefulness, when he heard the first crash of thunder.

It was not enough to rouse Hawke from her slumber, but she did stir and nuzzle into him. His eyes opened and he pondered the sound for a moment before they closed again.

And then the sky broke and rain fell upon their cabin like the sound of a billion pebbles being sprinkled from a bucket. _A lot of rain_, his sleepy mind noted with passing interest. Hawke gave a quiet "hmmmm" and found a crevice under his chin to burrow her face in. That was nice, the feeling of her warm breath on his neck. He found himself dozing off once again.

Then there was a loud creak and he thought he heard Isabela yell "Shit!" so he groggily sat up and went out to see what the trouble was.

The wind whipped the door from his hand and then he was drenched with water. The rain was blowing sideways and Isabela was fighting to steer the ship alee.

"Strip her down, boys!" Isabela yelled from the helm. Men frantically worked to cut rigging, and more came running with storm canvas. The ship lurched and another ominous creak from belowdecks was heard. "Batten down the hatches!" she shouted. He'd never heard someone say that so seriously or relevantly before in his life.

She was using all her might to steady the wheel, and for the moment it was working. She caught sight of Fenris and screamed "I need all hands on deck, even the pretty ones!" He thought he saw her wink at him.

Fenris quickly followed along the lifeline until he found a small group of men who were nailing canvas over grated surfaces in the ship. He felt less than useless, but he held one of the laths down while a bare-chested man drove nails into it. Every now and then the ship leaned and he felt he was going to fly into the starboard rail.

A moment later he heard Isabela scream. He came running, trying desperately not to slip and fall over the slippery boards. His clothing was soaked through and weighing him down. She was on her knees trying to push the wheel with the wind. He got behind her and threw his weight into a push in the same direction. With some reluctance yet, the ship groaned and began to behave again. Isabela stood and fell over against him. He pushed her back to her feet.

"Good girl." she said, more than a little winded. She patted the helm affectionately and put a hand on Fenris' shoulder.

As if to spite her the ship careened from a strong gale. There was a loud cracking sound and yelling as men scattered along the deck. The foremast toppled over, bringing down the rigging and ripping the storm canvas from the main mast.

"Shit!" he heard Isabela and Hawke say in unison. He hadn't noticed that she had joined them on the helm, but she was now running to help the others cut the rigging and free the splintered mast from the deck.

"What does that mean?" he said, pointing to the general area of chaos where their foremast used to be. He did not know much about ships himself, but he felt it must be a bad thing.

"It means we're dead in the water until we can get a spare up. That is, if the sea doesn't take us first. Speaking of which, you should probably be helping them." He obliged the captain's command, doing his best to make himself useful where he could and out of the way when he couldn't.

The foremast crashed into the water with a thunderous smack. Fenris was beginning to think the worst was over when a falling block hit him in the head, and then all went black.

* * *

His eyes opened to candlelight and murmuring. His head ached worse than he could ever remember.

"He's up." Varric's voice said.

"Oh good, you're awake. Had a nice nap, then?" Anders said, annoyed. "I hope the sound of desperate struggle didn't disturb your beauty rest."

"What?" he turned toward the direction of the voices and four equally annoyed blonde mages were staring at him, pushing against a door. Varric and his identical twin were using their Biancas to chip their way through the wall itself. The room was spinning. "The ship..."

"Who the hell cares about the ship? They've got Hawke!"

"Calm down, Blondie. Those girls are not exactly defenseless."

"Neither were we, and they still took us. And something tells me they don't intend to just shove her in an empty room."

"You're too modest. That was one bad-ass fireball."

Anders smirked. "It was, wasn't it?"

"See? And Hawke is at least as competent as you."

Fenris kneaded the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger until his vision went back to normal. He was wet and cold and irritated by the mage's presence. "What are you talking about?"

Anders sighed and rolled his eyes. "Have you any serious injuries? Not that I care, but I know she'll never forgive me if something happened to you."

He shook his head, trying to make sense of it all. "I'm fine. Who took Hawke?"

"Pirates. They took all the women."

"Why?"

"Are you joking?" he asked, incredulously. "They're pirates. I don't know what they want with her, but it's probably something very bad. Now stop asking stupid questions and help me with this damned door!"

Anders had to spell it out for him in the end, but it finally clicked. Fenris shot up onto his feet, adrenaline coursing through him anew. He pushed on the door with his shoulder, but quickly saw that it was no use. He needed leverage.

"We ended up right next to them after the storm cleared. Some luck, huh? They boarded and they shoved us all down in this room. I think they barricaded the door. You were out like a light." Varric explained. Fenris would have to thank him for that later, when he was done seething.

"If she's been hurt, I will..."

"Not before I light everyone on fire." Anders said with gleeful abandon. He laughed. _My head injury must have been severe if I now find the abomination funny._

"Now, now. There will be plenty of pirate scum for everyone." Varric said.

Fenris took a running start and slammed his body into the door. The wood split in a long line, but didn't break. Anders followed his lead and did the same thing. They took turns running at the door until it finally splintered and broke in half.

Outside the sun was peeking over the horizon. The pirates were towing Isabela's ship behind them. He could hear the sound of laughter and coming from a long ways away. They vaulted over the barrels of water that were being used to barricade them in. He made his way silently to his cabin.

He donned his armor and his sword and met up with Anders and Varric. They made their way toward the sound of voices with coarse accents.

"Well, I fancy a night with that blue-eyed beauty. She's feisty, she is."

"Not me, it took a dozen men to get her under control. That one is like to bite your cock clean off."

_Only a dozen, Hawke?_ He mused. _You're losing your touch._

"She'll do what I say or I'll cut her some new holes for fucking."

"That elf girl..." The other one started. He was interrupted when Varric hit him hard in the back of the head with Bianca's tiller, knocking him unconscious.

The first man's eyes widened with fear, and the last thing he saw was Fenris running him through with his sword. "No one touches Hawke." he said as he pushed the man off his blade.

With that taken care of, they sprinted toward the bowsprit. The conversation they had overheard made the weight of the situation all the more present.

They all seemed to realize at once how they had to cross over to the other ship as there was a universal groan. Fenris eyed the rope disapprovingly.

"Ladies first." Anders said to him.

"And here I am, the only one without a ponytail." Fenris said.

"Make way." Varric sighed, grabbing onto the rope. "I'm glad we can put our differences aside in a time of crisis. I'm sure Hawke appreciates your teamwork."

Fenris looked up at Anders. The mage gave a quick tilt of the head. Fenris returned the gesture. An unspoken agreement was made: until Hawke was rescued, they would work together.


	74. Yo ho! Blow the Man Down

**Just one last quick adventure before they reach Kirkwall. Some dark themes in this chapter, fair warning.**

**Hawke**

Isabela was the first and only pirate Hawke had ever met, but she still knew enough to be able to tell that the man in front of her was a walking stereotype.

The pirate stepped into the light as if to give Hawke a better look. He was half-elven with ebony skin, either from Rivaini heritage or a life on deck, perhaps both. His hair was braided in geometric patterns each one ending with purple and gold beads. A scar ran from his eyelid to his hairline where it turned into a shock of white hair. His eyes were yellow and flashed with mirth and lightning. He wore a long brown coat that swept across the floor when he walked, ornamented with several gold chains.

"Sam." Isabela sighed. "I should have known."

"Well now, if it isn't Isabela. The gods do have a sense of humor. And who are these other bilge rats?"

"Common mercenaries." Isabela answered quickly. "No one of consequence."

Sam bellowed out a laugh. "You're selling your sword now? I guess it would be worth more than what you've got between your legs after all these years."

"What do you intend to do with us?" Hawke asked.

The pirate turned to her with no small amount of interest. "What, indeed?" he said. "My, but you're a beauty. Eyes like the sea, herself." He stroked Hawke's cheek with a gloved hand. She yanked her face away. "And a spirited one at that. I like this one."

"Well, this has been a great chat, Sam. Glad we could catch up. We really must be going though. Thanks for the hospitality."

"What's the rush? The party hasn't even begun."

"Just to clarify: by party he means raping and pillaging, right?" Britta asked.

Sam laughed again and Hawke felt her heart ice over. "Where are my manners? Allow me to introduce myself. I am Captain Sambio the Blight Wolf, scourge of the Waking Sea. And this" he extended his arms and spun in a slow circle. "is the Broodmother. She's not as cozy as Isabela's little sardine, but she'll do."

"And how do you two know each other." Hawke asked, hoping that questions would stall him long enough for their friends to get to them.

"Isabela worked under me for a time. She didn't have the heart for our line of work. She wanted gold and the sea, but she didn't want to get her hands dirty. Isn't that right, Isabela?" Isabela frowned. "First chance she got she bailed on me. Took my wife with her."

"Is that what you think? She followed me, Sam. Begged me to steal her away to Fereldan. I told you she was no good."

Sam slapped Isabela hard across the cheek. "You never knew when to shut your mouth, did you, whore? Pretty and stupid as ever. It will be the death of you. Ah, but not today." He laughed. "My men worked up an appetite fighting you lot. We'll drink and eat and then we'll be back." he turned to Hawke. "Don't miss me too much, lovey."

Hawke's stomach churned and she prayed to the Maker that Fenris would show himself soon.

* * *

"They're not coming, are they?" Merrill asked in a sad voice. Hawke groaned.

It had been an hour since the captain had left them there. Every now and then they could hear cheers or singing, or the clanking of cups. They hadn't heard the sound of bodies falling to the floor or screaming or choking. No curses in Arcanum or fire crackling. No taunts from Varric either.

"Don't you worry, kitten. Varric and the others will be here to rescue you any minute."

"But what if they don't?" Hawke was beginning to worry, herself. Surely Fenris had woken up by now, and if not, Anders and Varric wouldn't give up. Still, no one had showed and she was worried for herself and for them alike. Merrill began to sob softly somewhere behind her.

Isabela craned her neck toward Merrill. "What was the best day of your life?"

Merrill paused for a moment and sniffed. "The day I met Hawke."

Hawke furrowed her brow. She'd never done anything but tolerate Merrill. She found herself having to babysit the girl to keep her out of trouble. She had no sense of self-preservation and she put everyone around her in danger by using blood magic and consorting with demons. She seemed to not understand the consequences of her choices until it was too late, and then it was up to Hawke to clean up her mess. Not only that, but she constantly yammered on about the culture of a people who hated her. She was unwilling or perhaps unable to move on and create a life for herself outside of her Dalish identity, which seemed to be some abstract idea that even she didn't fully grasp. Aside from all that, Merrill was awkward and verbose. It grated on her nerves. She vaguely realized that she meant well, despite being painfully stupid, and that underneath it all Merrill was a nice person, if a bit naive, but it was hard to ignore when she never stopped talking.

"Me? Why?" Hawke asked.

"I was so unhappy when I was with the clan. Everyone hated me. They treated me like an outsider. Then you came and took me away from all that. You became my friend and gave me a purpose. I'll always cherish that day." she said. Hawke felt more than a little ashamed. "Why do you ask, Isabela?"

"If something happens, I want you to think about that day, kitten. Remember it. Lose yourself in your memory until..."

"Just stop, Isabela. They're going to come. Fenris will not let me down." Hawke said, as much for her own sake as Merrill's.

"What about you, Isabela? When was your best day?" Merrill asked.

"The day I got my ship, of course." she turned toward Hawke. "The moment I stepped on board, I knew I was in love. It's the best gift anyone has ever given to me."

"You'll get your ship back, Isabela." Merrill said. "I'm feeling better now. I'm sure the boys will find us soon enough. We just have to wait patiently."

They were silent for a long time after that.

* * *

The door swung open and Captain Sam swaggered into the room, stinking like an alehouse. His eyes met Hawke's and he smiled maliciously. "I told you I'd be back for you." he said. "And here I am." He strolled behind her and she felt the icy caress of a dagger against her wrist. He cut off the ropes, but kept her arms restrained tightly behind her with his own.

"Hawke! Look at me, Hawke." Aveline said. Hawke turned to her, the guard-captain was smiling. "Don't worry. It's going to be alright. Fenris is coming. He'll be here soon." Merrill wailed something in elvish and Isabela shouted taunts.

"Shut it. All of you." Sam snapped at them. "Or you're next."

He marched her out of the room and down a gauntlet of men shouting obscenities and grabbing at her. A man raised his glass and splashed her fully in the face with some lukewarm ale. It stung her eyes and dripped down her chin. Sam stopped to smack the man to the ground with the back of his hand.

The door to the quarters parted with a squeak and he pushed her onto the bed. He began lighting candles and removing his jacket. Then he turned his gaze upon her and took a deep breath. "That's a mite better, isn't it?" He put his ear to the door, seeming to wait until he could no longer hear breathing and footsteps directly outside.

Hawke gritted her teeth. She briefly considered going berserk and crushing the man's head with her bare hands, but there was no way she could make it off the Broodmother on her own without her axe, let alone rescue the others on the way.

He pulled off his tunic, revealing a map of jagged and twisting scars from battles past across his chest and arms. Some were silver and white, the oldest she imagined, and others were still healing. The longest was black and it ran from shoulder to navel. He spread his arms, displaying them all with pride. He approached the bed and she backed against the wall. He ran his finger along one scar on his bicep. "I give better than I take." he said. "And taking is what I do."

"And today you took something you shouldn't have."

"We're talking about you now, aren't we lass?" He laughed. "Do you have a man aboard that minnow? He would have to be a ghost to get to me."

"And what if he is? What if he walks right through that wall and pulls your heart from your chest?"

Sam cocked his head to the side and thought about this for a moment. "Then I would have to concede his victory. Wouldn't I?" he chuckled. "Off with the blouse."

Hawke considered the order. Then, deciding it was a stupid idea, she said "I won't."

This seemed to amuse Sam. "It was not a request, lovey."

"I won't." she repeated.

"And why not?" he asked, less amused. He leaned over her, his hand pressed against the wall. His hot breath puffed in her face, it made her want to gag.

"My body belongs to only one wolf, and you are not him."

Sam scrunched his forehead, unsure of what to make of that answer. He stood up straight and paced a few steps and then turned and punched her in the face. He grabbed her up by the front of her shirt until her face was inches from his. "We can do this my way, or we can do it the hard way. I'm in a giving mood today. I'll let you decide."

"That was the hard way? You hit like a nug." she spat in his face.

He boomed out a raucous laugh. "I was trying not to mar your pretty white flesh, but if it makes no difference to you, it makes no difference to me." He threw her backward and her head bounced against the wall with a crack, then he struck her three more times upwards of the chin. "Tell me, will your ghost wolf still love you when I've fucked you into submission?"

"Hypothetically? Yes." a deep voice growled from somewhere behind him. "But it will never happen." And then suddenly he had a hand through his chest and Hawke was sprayed with a fine mist of blood. Sam looked down at the offending hand and groaned. Then he fell to the floor with a thud. Fenris stood before her, glowing faintly and wiping his hands off on the bed.

His eyes met hers and she could not find her voice. She reached out for him and he moved forward to grab her up in his arms. His lips fell clumsily on her face and her lips. "Are you hurt?" he asked. "Tell me you're alright." But his lips smashed into hers a dozen more times before she could answer. She could feel them beginning to bruise and she wondered if it was caused by Sam's blows or Fenris' desperate kisses.

She laughed, forcing him to finally pull away. "I'm fine, Fenris. Thanks to you. Where are the others?"

"Varric is freeing the others and Anders is...lighting everyone on fire."

Hawke snickered. "We should join the fun then."

He handed Hawke her axe and smiled "I agree."

* * *

As it turns out, the Broodmother's crew had a lot to drink. They went up in flames very easily and ran about frantically, destroying the ship. It was boring really, no challenge at all. Hawke began knocking them overboard with the flat of her axe. Fenris glanced over at her and shrugged.

Once they were sufficiently satisfied that the Broodmother would not be following them to Kirkwall, they began to make their way back to Isabela's ship and cut the lines.

Isabela flung the door to the hold open and a resounding cheer erupted from within. Evidently her men had helped themselves to the grog stores while they were locked down there.

She greeted her crew with stern relief. "I see we haven't lost anyone." she sighed. "I'll thank you all to rig the main mast, and when you're done with that, start remasting the ship. I want to reach Kirkwall in a fortnight. Let's move!" She spanked a man on the backside. He turned to wink at her and ran from the glare he was met with.

Fenris came up behind her and put his arms around her waist, burying his lips in the crook of her neck. She squealed, reveling in the rare public display of affection. Things quickly became heated, however, and she folded her arms across her chest, suddenly aware that she was poking through her blouse. "Fenris, we're being watched." she giggled.

He grunted, but didn't stop, focusing intently on a small mole near her earlobe, his hands trailed downward until she slapped it away. She struggled free and turned to look him in the eye. His eyelids were heavy with desire. Grinning, she bent to lift him and carry him back to their cabin. The ship roared with whistles and cheers.

"Hawke," he grumbled. "I am able to walk on my own."

"You rescued me." she smiled. "Let me give you a reward for your heroism."

"What kind of a reward?" he asked, sounding more than a little intrigued.

The door closed behind her and she dropped him on the bed and unlaced his leggings. "I would tell you, but I've heard it's rude to talk with my mouth full."


	75. Welcome Home

**Fenris**

Hawke woke him with a smile on her face and a kiss on his lips, bidding him to follow. He rolled out of bed and threw on a rumpled tunic. He trudged behind her, cursing every step of the way.

"Look." she pointed. He held a hand up to his brow to shield his eyes from the glare of the sun. And he saw it: Kirkwall, far off in the distance. Hawke jumped up and down, ecstatically. She threw her arms around him and kissed him on the lips.

"I-Hawke, will you stop bouncing, please? It is early." he pleaded. "I see it. Kirkwall, just the same as it ever was."

"Sorry." she said. "I'm just so happy to finally put this trip behind us."

"Oh? Why so eager? From my understanding you are not returning empty-handed."

She laughed. "And what a handful you are indeed." she reached out and grabbed him by the balls, giving a little squeeze.

He blushed, slapping her hands away. "Is nothing sacred between us?" he shook his head. "I am glad you are happy. Shall we fetch your belongings?"

"Sure."

She followed him back to the cabin and immediately tackled him onto the bed.

"This is not being productive." he said.

She mounted his hips. "Maybe just a quickie?"

"It never works out that way." he sighed. "You are rather high maintenance, Hawke." She looked as though she might protest so he continued "And I prefer to savor you, like any true indulgence."

"Like a fine wine?" she asked.

"Just so." he chuckled.

"But I want you, Fenris." She rocked her hips and he truly considered it for a moment.

"Patience, Hawke." he said. "You will have me tonight, I am sure of it."

"Isabela won't mind if we're a little late off the boat."

"Isabela would walk in and insist we allow her to participate." he said. "You must wait."

She groaned and he felt a little proud of himself for having the willpower to deny her, and having such an effect on her to begin with.

She shoved everything haphazardly into the bag and walked outside in a huff, leaving everything behind. Fenris quirked an eyebrow and followed her, unsure if he had said something to offend her. To his confusion, she began removing her shirt and pants, and then her boots, until she was clothed in only her smalls.

"Hawke, why are you..." she ignored him and climbed onto the rail of the ship, probably giving Kirkwall quite the show, by the way she was positioned. He realized what she was about to do and for some irrational reason, it made him angry. "Hawke! Stop!" he shouted. She peeked back at him with a playful smile, blew him a kiss and then did a cannonball into the water.

"Venhedis!" he shouted, searching the water. After a moment or two he saw the top of her head and then she had the gall to look up at him and wave, smiling like a naughty child. "Hawke!" he shouted. He saw an image of her emerging, freezing and blue-lipped from the water some time later, putting her arms around him and soaking his nice, dry clothes. He knew it was more than just a possible scenario, it was a _prophecy_. Hawke was probably planning it even now. He was preemptively furious.

"Jump in!" she yelled. The ship was quickly leaving her behind.

"Why would I want to do that?" he rolled his eyes.

"Because you can."

Because he _could_.

It was as good a reason as any.

Before he could think, his tunic was gone and he was taking a deep breath. He pushed himself off the side of the ship and he fell-freely. It was glorious and a little frightening.

The water was cold, but he didn't care. She was there. When he found her, he kissed her and said "I love you" for the second time in his life. But this time was different.

The first time had been almost a reassurance. To kill any doubts in her mind about the way he felt. He had been apprehensive, unsure of how to form the words on his tongue. This time it was confident, and he said it because it needed to be said. Because the feeling overwhelmed him at the moment. Because he _could_.

She smiled mischievously and splashed him in the face. He grinned and went under the surface, grabbing her by the leg and pulling her down with him. She rained feeble punches on his back and shoulders until he let go.

When he came up, she attacked him with a kiss. "I love you, Fenris." she said, and it was the sweetest sound in the world.

He turned and pulled her arms around his neck and her legs wound themselves around him of their own accord. "To Kirkwall!" she said, raising her fist in the air.

He thought he should tell her that he wasn't, in fact, a mount, but she would probably find compelling arguments to the contrary. "Let's go home." he said, and he gave her a ride back to the docks.

* * *

Eighteen former slaves were standing around, looking awkward, and eighteen grubby faces turned bright red when Hawke emerged from the water in her soaking smallclothes, and he in his dripping leggings. Not much was left to the imagination for either of them, so he was thankful when Varric showed up with some robes. _Always prepared, that dwarf._

He noticed that Aveline was nowhere in sight, and he knew that she had gone to Donnic. He made a mental note not to bother either of them for a few days. They would be busy.

Hawke was staring at all the refugees and he knew she was worried. She knew what it was like to be at the bottom of the food chain in Kirkwall. Hawke wouldn't want that kind of life for these people, and she certainly wouldn't want them squatting in some ditch in Darktown. He put his hand on her shoulder and she turned to him, her eyes questioning.

"What am I going to do, Fenris?" she asked. "What am I going to do?"

He shook his head. He had no answers for her. "No matter what happens, it will undoubtedly be better than their former lives."

"That's not good enough." she said.

He frowned, knowing there was nothing he could do to convince her otherwise.

"If they went to Sundermount, I'm sure the clan would help them." Merrill said from behind him.

Hawke whipped around to hug her. "Thank you, Merrill, you're brilliant!"

"I-really?"

"Yes, a bloody genius!" she laughed.

"No one's ever said that about me before. Thank you, Hawke."

* * *

Hawke had left Isabela, Britta and Varric at the Hanged Man. Varric thanked her for the story and she thanked Isabela for the use of her ship.

Then they left Merrill and the eighteen refugees in the alienage. She had not been pleased with that decision, despite the eighteen "thank you"s and "benefacis" she received. She promised to return in a day or so to escort everyone to Sundermount and no one, least of all Fenris doubted her.

Which left Anders, Hawke and Fenris. An uncomfortable situation, indeed, but the mage needed to retrieve his belongings from Hawke Estate, and he assured them that it wouldn't take long. It was difficult to ignore the pathetic look he gave her as he turned toward Hightown, but Fenris said nothing. _Be the bigger_ man. He thought to himself.

Fenris sat in an armchair while Hawke and Anders sorted through the books on a shelf. He hadn't realized what a life they'd built upon one another over the years, but the mage's things were everywhere. Still, he had not lied. It did not take that much time for him to gather himself up, and his belongings filled only a few bags, aside from the cat who - to Fenris' amusement - refused to stay in a bag at all and had to be chased around the building more than once. Anders hefted the thing over his shoulder, and it quickly fell asleep. He took one last look at Hawke Estate, as though he never intended to return again, and pushed open the door.

* * *

Darktown was in the same state as ever. Most of the vagrants recognized Anders and waved or nodded in greeting. One woman looked like she was about to run over and hug him, but she took one look at Fenris and seemed to think better of it.

There were some Carta thugs waiting near the entrance to the clinic, but they fled when they saw Hawke. She sighed. "That's the third group I've seen tonight. They must have become daring while I've been away."

"The Carta are like roaches, they scurry into the shadows when light approaches. Make your presence known and they will stop coming around." Anders said.

"And just like with roaches, where there's one, there's hundreds more."

"You don't have to fix every problem in Kirkwall right away lo-Hawke." he said.

"I know." she said.

Anders fetched a key from his pocket and turned it in the lock. He fumbled with it for a while, but it finally came open.

Fenris immediately knew something was wrong. The acrid scent of death hit him in the face like a wall. Hawke must have sensed it too, because she covered her face with her shirt.

"What is that?" she coughed.

"Decaying flesh. I'd recognize it anywhere." Anders answered. He produced a small flame on his fingertips and panned the light around the room. Hawke was the first to see it.

"Oh Maker!" she gasped.

"What?" Anders asked. "What do you see?"

He made another pass over the room with his magic fire until he too discovered what had disturbed her so. Several bodies had been piled up in a corner, and on the wall there was a symbol painted on the wall in blood.

Anders moved toward it, silently, until his fire made a bright halo around it. A sword. The templar sword. Anders said not a word. He looked down at the bodies.

"No." he said quietly and fell to his knees. "Oh Maker, why?"


	76. Back with a Vengeance

**Hawke**

"Anders what is it? Who are those people?"

The mage choked and let his fire die out. "These people are" he corrected himself "were the mage underground." He let out a long wail, half scream, half cry.

"Anders..." Hawke said softly. She went to him and placed a hand on his shoulder. "Anders, you have to stay in control."

He sobbed. She knelt down in front of him, grasping him by the cheeks to look at her. "You can't lose yourself." There was a flash of silver in his eyes, and she could feel his jaw grinding. "Anders, talk to me."

He shook his head. "What do you want me to say?" The sorrow in his voice almost broke her heart.

"Tell me you're okay." she said.

He hesitated, his eyes softened, and then he pulled himself away. "No!" he said. "I'm not okay! This." he pointed at the dismembered men and women. "this is not bloody okay! Everything I worked for is gone. I have nothing left. No clinic, no home, all the people I tried to help are gone now. I don't even have you, anymore."

"You have me, Anders! We're friends! We'll always be friends! Don't throw it away!"

"Would you have me sit by in complacency, while they butcher us for sport? What if it were me in that pile? Would you let it go unpunished?"

"Of course not! It will not go unpunished, I will find whoever did this and make sure they pay for their crimes."

"We must teach them a lesson, every last templar." he said, and his voice was not his own, when he looked up at her his eyes were glowing and his vein pulsed with blue light.

"No! This is the work of a few evil men. The Grand Cleric would never sanction such an atrocity, you know this!"

"I know no such thing."

"Not all templars are like this. Remember Thrask and Keiran?" his frown deepened, unyielding. "Anders, you are better than this."

He paused and the light in his eyes went out. He slumped and fell into her arms, burying his face in her shoulders. His chest heaved with quaking sobs. She patted him on the back. "What do I do?" he asked. "Where will I go?"

"You'll stay with me. It isn't safe here anymore." she said.

"What?!" Both Fenris and Anders responded in unison.

"I will not have one of my companions in the gallows or on the streets."

"Might I have a word, Hawke?" Fenris asked.

"Fenris..."

"Alone." he said adamantly.

Anders nodded at her and she stood. She stepped out of the clinic, happy to be away from the scent of putrescence for a moment. Fenris was pressed against a wall, his arms folded over his chest defensively.

"Fenris, he's my friend."

"He used to be more." he furrowed his brow in challenge. "I do not like this, Hawke. I do not trust him with you. I have held my tongue as you wanted until now, but I simply cannot in this matter. How can you ask me to agree to this?"

"If I recall correctly, I haven't asked you anything." she said, a little annoyed that he expected her to ask his permission.

"Is that supposed to be better?" he barked.

She sighed. "Nothing is going to happen. You're the only one I want to be with. Ever again."

"It is not you I am worried about. What if he..." he hesitated. "What if he tries something? He is out of control, you can see that. What if he touched you?"

"Then you'll be there to kick his ass, with my blessing."

"You are not concerned you will lose your healer?"

"Not really. I know you wouldn't do that to me." she kissed him on the cheek. "You love me, remember?"

"Hmm, perhaps." he frowned. "I still don't like this."

"Noted." she said. "I don't really see any other options at the moment, however. Too many templars at the Rose and people talk at the Hanged Man, he'd be in the Gallows by morning."

"In that case, I hope you know what you're doing, Hawke. I will see you tomorrow." and he began leaving.

"Wait, where are you going?"

"Home. This day has left me exhausted."

"Oh." she said, more than a little disappointed. She hung her head and waved. "I guess I'll see you, then."

"Is something the matter?" he asked.

"Don't trouble yourself, Fenris." she said. She placed a small kiss on his lips and turned away, but his arm hooked around her waist, holding her in place.

"I know something is wrong. Do not insult me by saying otherwise."

"I just thought you wanted to wake up beside me, but I understand if you prefer your space." she knew how weak she must have sounded.

"What about the mage?" he asked.

"What about him? He'll be in mother's room. You didn't think we'd be sharing a bed did you?" she laughed.

"I did not want to think about it, if I am honest." he said. "Is this what you want, Hawke? Do you want me to stay in the estate with you?"

"Tonight. Tomorrow night. Every night after that. And be there when I wake." she smiled. "Hawke Estate gets so very cold at night."

Without hesitating he said "then I will keep you warm."

She leaned in to kiss him and right before their lips met there was a pronounced "ahem!" Fenris rolled his eyes. Anders was tapping his foot impatiently.

"Shall we get a move on?" Hawke asked, suddenly eager to get home and into her bed.

"Yes." Anders huffed and trudged ahead of them. Skipper peeked his head out of his pocket and Hawke had to stifle a laugh, despite the awkwardness that was sure to ensue.

* * *

Fenris was ill at ease with Anders nearby. He became possessive and jealous, which was sexy for a while, until it wasn't anymore. The sad part was that she knew this was his good behavior. He was holding his tongue. In fact, he hadn't said more than a few words directly to Anders. Sometimes he talked about him as though he weren't standing right next to him, or made passive aggressive comments, but it was still progress.

Anders didn't leave his room much at all, except for meals and he took those back with him when she allowed him. One night she insisted he eat at the table like a civilized person, but he didn't add anything to the conversation.

"An excellent meal, Hawke." Fenris said, unsubtly playing footsie with her under the table. "I'm truly grateful for your hospitality. Thank you."

Hawke saw right through the comment. It was meant to make Anders feel unwelcome, as usual, but she didn't feel like getting into an argument. "Thank Orana, she's the one who made it."

"Thank you, Hawke." Anders said languidly.

"You're welcome." she said, glancing over at him. She noticed he wasn't really eating so much as pushing the food around his plate. And then she saw that his cheeks were just a touch too gaunt, his eyes sunken in further than usual, his chin sharper than it had been. "Aren't you hungry, Anders?"

"Hm?" he shook his head. "I'm sorry?"

"You haven't eaten a bite of your food." she said, pointing with her fork.

"Oh, I haven't had much of an appetite as of late." he admitted. "I'm sure it's delicious, but I'm just not hungry."

"Are you well?" she asked.

He stared down at his plate and ran his hand over his face. "I'll be fine. I appreciate your concern, Hawke. You have always been a good friend. Never doubt that."

She scrunched her face up, confused. "You too." She bit off another piece of meat and chewed, considering what he'd said. For some reason the compliment unsettled her. "What do you mean by that? You're scaring me, Anders."

"Nothing. Forget I said anything." he said and excused himself.

* * *

The following week she started finding folded up pieces of Anders' manifesto again, and then she was truly worried. The first couple of times she thought maybe they were left behind from before, perhaps in denial. Then she found a cache of them in her favorite book.

A few times she'd sat down and tried to read the thing, but she found it so boring and condescending, she was unable to read more than a few paragraphs at a time.

But this was different. Anders was acting strange and she needed to get down to the bottom of it.

She unfolded one of the pages and was disturbed to find it was not his manifesto at all, but a last will and testament of sorts. Anders didn't have much in the way of property, but he had written out a list of his friends and rivals and left a piece of advice, or a wish, or a rant for each of them. She skimmed through to find her name and sure enough, there it was at the bottom of the page. He'd written more for her than anyone else. She took a deep breath and began to read it.

**_Hawke: I love you. I know I've told you this a million times, but it won't hurt you to hear it again. I wish more than anything that I could take it all back, that I could have been the man you always deserved. I regret almost everything I've done with my life. My entire existence has been mistake after mistake. The one thing I won't regret is loving you. Don't blame yourself for what happened._**

And the thing that scared her the most was that she wasn't sure whether he meant something that already happened, or something that was yet to happen. She shivered to herself. It was time to have a talk with her favorite healer.

She wanted to approach the situation delicately. She knocked on his door and patiently waited until he opened it. It was immediately clear that he hadn't bathed in a long time, which was unusual for him, since he was normally so concerned with his appearance.

"Hawke, come in." he said. "I'm sorry it's such a mess in here." He sat down at his desk and motioned for her to have a seat on the bed. She pushed a pile of folded pages to make room. "Did you need something?"

She pulled the papers from her pocket and handed them to him. "I found these." she said. "I read them."

He stiffened and his eyes conveyed a look of pure horror. "And?"

"And, as your friend, I thought you might want to talk." she said, then stood up. "No, _I_ wanted to talk."

His eyes followed her as she paced around the room. "What about?"

"This. Everything. You've been holed up in here for weeks, writing this, apparently. What is this, anyway? It reads like a suicide note. You don't eat, you don't bathe, you don't go out in the sun anymore. But more importantly, you don't talk to me. You don't laugh, or joke. I need to know. Is Vengeance back?"

"I won't lie. Yes, he is." he said, simply. "Not that he was ever gone."

She had suspected as much. "Should I be worried?"

"I don't know." he said. "He's powerful now. Stronger than he was."

"Anders, you defeated him before, you can do it again. We'll find a way. We can do that ritual you were talking about. I'll buy enough lyrium for the entire circle to enter the Fade if it will make you safe."

He sighed. "It might kill me, but it may be my only option."

"Is there no other way?"

"I don't know." he said. "That was supposed to be the last ditch. I feel so weak against him. He won't let me sleep. He's streamlining my activities to be more efficient. I'm losing my memories of...of you." he said, his voice catching. "That's the worst part. I can't for the life of me remember how we met. It's like he's discarding everything he finds irrelevant."

"You don't remember?" she asked.

He shook his head. "Remind me."

"I was looking for a Grey Warden to help with the expedition." she said tearfully. "You almost attacked me in the clinic, and only agreed to help me if I helped your friend..."

"Karl!" he exclaimed, snapping his fingers. His eyes lit up and he smiled for only a second. "Yes, I remember now. Vaguely, as though it were a dream. Thank you for that. I don't know if he'll allow me to keep it, however."

It hurt her more than it should have. She had no desire to be with him, but this was Anders! Her silly, stupid, pouty Anders and he was empty inside, but for his vengeance. "This is my fault. I failed you." a tear rolled down her cheek. "I could have stopped this."

"No!" he said, wiping the tears from her eyes. "No, never think that. You did the impossible, love. You gave me my life back, even for a little while. I'm so thankful." he hugged her close.

"Then fight this!" she yelled. "Do it for me!"

He chuckled bitterly. "If it were that simple..."

"It is! You won't fail me, because...because I believe in you!"

He looked taken aback. His eyes met hers. "I'll do my best. If there's a way, I'll find it." He brushed a careless hair out of her eyes. "No more crying for me, love."

"You can't tell me what to do." she said, angrily.

He laughed. "Stubborn as always. Please don't ever change." he squeezed her once again. "No matter what happens, I'm always going to love you. You know that, right? No one can take that away, not even Justice."

She looked away, wiping her face on her sleeve. "Stop talking like you're about to die. You promised you'd try for me. I'm going to hold you to that promise. I'll be so angry at you if you break it."

* * *

Fenris was pacing outside the door when she emerged. He turned on a dime, his eyes looking sharp and narrow. "Did you have a nice talk?" he asked, accusingly.

"No, actually. It was morbid and depressing."

"Is there a reason the door needed to be closed?"

"He's falling apart, Fenris."

"That is nothing new. I noticed you didn't answer my question."

"It didn't merit one."

"I wouldn't have asked if it didn't."

"Why are you being such an ass?"

"Why are you being so evasive?" he snarled.

She groaned. "I find it absolutely ridiculous that I have to say this, but I have been completely faithful to you."

"That's all you had to say."

"Oh good. Glad that's settled." she laughed. "Maybe we can avoid this conversation in the future if you just lift your leg and mark your territory instead."

"Shut up, Hawke." he growled.

The dam inside her broke. She screamed at the top of her lungs in his direction. Fenris sidled a little, furrowing his brow and cocking his head to the side, unsure of how to react. His mouth opened and he stroked his chin, as if he were going to say something, but he thought better of it and closed it again just as quickly.

She thought she ought to say something, to tell him to stop acting like such a jerk, to tone down the testosterone, to give her some damn space, but instead she stalked into her room, slamming the door behind her and throwing herself onto the bed. She cried into her pillow like a stupid child.

A while later, the door creaked open, and the weight on the bed shifted.

He was silent for a long time, but finally he spoke. "I am sorry for my behavior. It was uncalled for."

"Go away." she sobbed into her pillow.

"Did he hurt you?" he asked. There was tenderness in his voice.

"No." she said.

"What's wrong?" he stroked her hair and the back of her neck.

"Nothing." she said. "You wouldn't understand."

"I could try." he said.

"It's alright."

"Do you want to scream at me again?" he asked.

"No."

"Do you want to hit me?" he asked. "I probably deserve it."

"Of course not."

"Tell me what to do, Hawke." he said. His voice sounded a little desperate.

She thought about it for a moment or two. "Love me." she said. That was all she'd ever wanted to begin with.

He kissed her between the shoulder blades. "That is a given." he said. "What else?"

"Hold me." she said. "All night. Don't you dare let go."

"Of course." his strong arms encircled her and pulled her against him. "Anything else?"

"Just talk. Or whisper."

"What about?"

"Anything, really. I just want to hear your voice."

He settled against her. "I shall tell you about my dreams." He whispered directly in her ear and drew circles on her back with his fingers.

"I'd like that."


	77. The Bronto in the Room

**Fenris**

He was still getting used to having a home. A place where he was welcome, where he was _loved_. That was the truly unfathomable thing, that she loved _him_, that she wanted to share this part of her life with _him_, even after everything. Her eternal forgiveness, her ability to see the good in him, the way she gentled his anger, those were the parts of Hawke would forever remain a mystery to him. Along with the way her fingers always knew the right place to touch, the way her lips knew the right time to kiss, the way she fit so perfectly in his arms. It was mystifying. Some kind of magic, just as powerful and dangerous as any other kind, but he did not fear it.

The mansion was there. He passed it sometimes when they went on missions, but he had never felt any desire to enter it until that day. The key was still hidden under the rock in the flower bed. The petunias had withered into gnarled brown hands that clawed their way out of the soil, reaching for any small dreg of dew or rain. He opened the door.

It was falling apart, crumbling like the last walls he had erected so long ago between them. Soon it would have to be demolished, and she would see all the corpses and the solitude and want to know the stories behind all the empty bottles of Aggregio and he would tell her if she asked. He would tell her all the things Danarius had done to him. Not all his scars were lyrium brands. Not all the pain he had suffered was so tangible. He suspected she knew, but to what extent? He felt ashamed to even think about it.

The tiny pouch was sitting on the desk where he'd left it. There was a fine layer of dust coating it, the black velvet turned gray from abandonment, and there was a hole in the bottom where a moth or perhaps a mouse had gotten to it. He tucked it in his pocket and took one last look at the place he had lived for six years of his life. There was no reason to ever come back here.

* * *

Hawke was curled up in bed, reading a book in her nightgown, awash in a faint orange glow from the fireplace. He sat down next to her in the chair, but she scarcely noticed him, she was so engrossed in whatever it was she was reading. It made him smile. She never did anything halfway.

He waited until she yawned and caught sight of him out of the corner of her eye, then did a double-take.

"Fenris, when did you get back?" she asked, surprised.

"Not long." She set the book aside and patted the mattress in front of her for him to sit. He did.

"Did you get everything you needed from the mansion?" she asked.

He pulled the pouch from his pocket and nodded, plopping it in her lap, a cloud of dust exploded from it as he did.

She glanced down at it. "Fenris, it's filthy." she laughed. "What is it?"

"See for yourself." he said.

She opened it cautiously, perhaps afraid that some kind of vermin would jump out at her. He wouldn't be entirely surprised if it did.

The gem caught the light as she pulled it out, for a moment it was just as bright and brilliantly azure as her eyes. She handed it to him and turned, pulling her hair off the nape of her neck. The creamy, unmarred skin that was revealed was an alluring sight in and of itself, so he graced it with a tender kiss. He put it on her, and pulled the looking glass from off the bedside table, holding it in front of them for her to admire. It was a lovely necklace, but seeing himself so close to her was even better. She smiled.

He swallowed hard. "I thought it might match your eyes."

"Didn't you say you got this from your mansion?"

"I did." he said. "I bought if for you long ago. That night we met in the alienage. I was going to give it to you, to tell you exactly how I felt, but the mage beat me to it. I lost my nerve."

She nodded. "No one has ever given me jewelry before." she said. "It's beautiful. Thank you, Fenris."

"It's just a bauble." he blushed. He wondered if he was ever going to stop doing that around her, and prepared for the inevitable ribbing he was about to receive.

"Accept my gratitude, pink one." she commanded, throwing her arms around him.

_Predictable._ "Is that an order?" he snorted.

"Yes. Know your station, elf." she said, in mock sternness. "Or I will compliment you until you do."

"Do your worst, Hawke. I will not surrender easily."

"I love the way your skilled tongue feels on my..."

His hand came up to cover her mouth, his cheeks burning. "You do not fight fair. Alright, I accept your thanks. I am glad you like it. Please don't continue." She kissed the palm of his hand. "Ridiculous."

"I reserve the right to be silly. I won."

"Because you cheated."

"I won fair and square." she said.

"Hrumph, easy enough to do when you make up the rules." he said, reclining on a pillow. She propped herself up on her elbow next to him, staring down into his eyes.

"Are you happy?" she asked reaching under his shirt to trace his markings with a lonesome finger. He was amazed how quickly she'd memorized them.

The question took him by surprise. He'd never really been happy before, but he was experiencing many things for the first time. Friendship, home, belonging, freedom, love. There had been a time when he'd considered those things impossible. Those were things for other people, not for slaves. Even when he'd escaped he was always wary of others, skeptical of their intentions, never allowing himself to be in debt to someone else. Those days were far behind him. Hawke had chased them away with her kisses and her love, her beliefs in impossible notions like altruism and loyalty, even when those around her did not always return the sentiment, and now he dared to believe in them too.

Yes. He was happy.

"I am." he said.

She smiled and curled into him. The pattern she was drawing became more and more careless until her hand settled flat over his heart, and she became heavy. Her warmth and the weight of her against him lulled him to sleep.

* * *

His arm was numb and there was a puddle of drool leaking through his shirt. Hawke was snoring softly. He chuckled, pulling himself out from under her. He didn't want to leave but he was parched. She gave a distressed whimper but didn't wake.

He stood and heard the sound of stirring outside the door, then there was movement in the corner of his eye and the sound of a door closing. Perhaps it was just his imagination, years of paranoia playing tricks on his mind.

Outside the room there was an abandoned piece of parchment lying on the floor. _The abomination,_ he thought, rolling his eyes. Not only did Anders burden Hawke with his miserable presence, but he couldn't even clean up after himself. Not that Fenris was a neat freak himself, but he knew how proud she was of her estate, he did his best to leave each room the way it was when he entered for her sake.

He bent to retrieve the offending paper. If it belonged to anyone but Anders he might have just minded his own business and returned the thing, but above all else, Fenris believed in knowing the enemy and he took the opportunity to read it.

_**Hawke's unflagging optimism is unfounded. He is knitted into every fiber of my being. I am Justice. I cannot go back. She managed to make even me believe for a time, but I've come to realize that this is for the best. The mages of Kirkwall need me now more than ever.**_

_**The more I think about it, the more I realize that Clemency was a glitch in the system. Justice should not be lenient. A blind eye can kill someone just as surely as any sword. No one is innocent in this matter. **_

_**It kills me to think that I must throw her unwittingly into this. It will break her heart. She has been unwaveringly supportive of this cause, and yet, I cannot allow her to knowingly be a part of this. Soon all shall be revealed. I am ready. **_

Fenris crumpled the paper in his fist. _Vague, cryptic, foreboding._ Anders was up to no good, and if Hawke was involved, he needed to know.

He threw open the door to Anders' room. The mage had been leaning over a pile of papers, but he jumped up and grabbed his staff instinctively.

"What in the Maker's name..." he stared. "What do you want?"

Fenris strode across the room and phased through Anders' chest. "This has gone on for long enough. Hawke chooses to ignore how dangerous you are. For reasons beyond my comprehension, she still has affection for you. Perhaps she believes that there is more to you than just deception and guile. Ah, but we know the truth, don't we, mage?" he spat. "I will not allow you to hurt her. You are unworthy of her tears."

"And what do you think killing me will do?" he choked out. "She would never forgive you."

Fenris sneered, but knew he was right. "What are you hiding? If you think I will let you use her for your cause then..."

"Fenris!" Hawke cried from the doorway. "What are you doing? Stop!"

He withdrew, narrowing his eyes at Anders for good measure then turned toward her. "Hawke, I..."

And then there was a very sharp pain in the back of his head, and the floor rose up to meet him. Hawke was running toward him, but she sounded as though she was very far away. And then there was nothing.


	78. The Benefit of the Doubt

**Hawke**

Her heart stopped. Fenris eyes rolled back and he fell forward. She ran to catch him, but she wasn't quick enough and he hit the ground hard. "No! Fenris!" she shouted. "Speak to me!" Hawke had never been very religious, but she sent out a frantic prayer to the Maker.

It happened so fast. He had let his guard down for only a second and the demon had violently seized control of Anders. It raised his staff in a quick motion and thrust it point blank at the back of Fenris' head, then released a torrent of lightning into his skull. Her hair still stood on end.

Her hands fumbled over him until she found his pulse, relieved to feel the faint thrumming under his skin. The comfort quickly turned to anger. Her fists clenched at her sides, and her eyes darted up at the Anders who wasn't Anders standing before her. He raised his staff in readiness, his eyes glowing. She was unsurprised to find he was pointing it at her.

"Lower your weapon, Justice!" she commanded.

There was a good amount of deliberation. "No." he said.

"I said lower your weapon! I am not your enemy, but if you don't put it down I will become one."

"Not an enemy? Then what are you? You have done nothing but distract my host from his duty. You have sworn to exact retribution upon the fiends who slayed the mage underground, but instead you trifle with this elf. Not an enemy! You are no friend!"

"Your host?" she spat. "You don't even call him by his name anymore? Interesting. No, demon. he is my friend, you are just a third wheel. A cancer on Anders' soul."

"_Anders_ would disagree." He said, emphasizing the name.

"Maybe. He's not really himself these days, is he?"

The spirit looked her up and down. "You cannot claim to be his friend and stand by while they murder his kind."

"And you cannot claim to be his friend while you threaten to kill the woman he loves. I wonder if he'd be so receptive if you laid a finger on me?"

Justice lowered Anders' staff. "This is not over, human. Soon, you will be forced to choose a side, then we shall see what kind of friend you really are."

After a moment or two the color reappeared in Anders' eyes and he fell to his knees, putting his forehead to the ground.

"Welcome back." she said.

"Hawke?" he asked. "What just..." he spotted Fenris laying supine on the floor. "Oh, bloody hell."

He knelt over Fenris, turning him over to find the black and red wound. He whistled. "You are one lucky bastard." he muttered, raining blue magic over the injury until it closed up. He fell backward, sagging over. "Any lower and he might have been paralyzed, any higher and his brain might have been fried. Instead he'll just wake up with a very bad headache. He's going to be just fine."

"No thanks to Justice." she growled.

"Just to be clear, he attacked me first."

"And I'm sure you did nothing to provoke him." she said.

"I have no idea what his problem was. I was sitting here, minding my own business when he came barging in, pissed off and glowing."

"Pardon me if I find that a little hard to believe." she rolled her eyes. "He's been trying to hold his tongue. I can't imagine he'd attack you for no good reason."

"Since when has he ever needed a reason?"

"Since when has he ever physically attacked you?" she countered.

"It was only a matter of time."

Hawke ignored him. "Anders, you're getting worse. Fenris yielded right before Justice attacked. I saw it with my own eyes. He could have been killed. Then Justice tried to threaten me. He is out of control."

"I'm sorry, love. He is very single-minded. I will talk to him."

"What if he won't be reasoned with?"

"I have to try."

"I thought I was going to have to kill you." she admitted.

"Part of me might have thanked you."

"Yes, never mind what it would have done to _me_." she said bitterly, bending to lift Fenris into her arms. Anders moved forward to help her and she recoiled. "Don't touch him!" she yelled. "Just stay away!"

"Hawke..."

"Unless you know how to get rid of that monster inside you, I have nothing more to say."

He nodded and slumped onto the bed. "I understand."

* * *

"Hawke."

The voice was gritty and dry, his hand finally gripped hers back, and green eyes peered up at her through a flourish of dark lashes.

She tried to think of what to say, something that would convey just how happy she was to see him awake, but words failed her. Instead she brought his hand up to her lips and placed a gentle kiss on the back of it, then pulled his arm around her and climbed into his embrace. She covered his mouth with hers. His eyes closed, but only for a second, and then he reached up and cupped her cheek. "I am here, Hawke." he said.

"I love you." she said.

"I love you." he said. There was no hesitation, no waver in his voice, just honesty. She was so intensely proud of him. "I am thirsty."

"Such a romantic." she chuckled. "I'll get you some water."

"I can get it." he said, sitting up. He groaned with pain and held his head. "On second thought, perhaps I won't." he said, shrinking back onto his pillow.

"That's what I thought." she laughed. "I'll be right back."

She handed him the glass of water and watched with interest as he gulped the entire thing down. His hair was in an adorable state of disarray, at least partially from being electrocuted, she guessed.

"So, I have to ask: what happened? He says you attacked him."

"I did." he answered simply.

"Why would you do that?" she asked.

"It was not without proper cause. He is planning something. There was a paper, something about throwing you into chaos, and breaking your heart. He is plotting." he sneered. "It's something big, Hawke. I needed to know what it was."

"Fenris, I don't think..."

"It's true. He said he could not allow you to knowingly be a part of it, whatever that means."

"He could be talking about anything. It could be his evil plan to adopt all the kittens of Kirkwall in one fell swoop."

"You don't believe me." he said. She could hear the hurt in his voice, but his eyes remained the same.

"It's not that." She lowered her gaze. "Say what you will about Anders, he's no mastermind. I lived with him for three years and it takes him half an hour to figure his boots out each morning. He can scarcely plan his own breakfast, let alone something as grand as you've been saying."

"I have never lied to you, Hawke. That is more than one can say about him." he said.

"I haven't said anything about lying. I just think you might be overreacting a bit."

"You think I am imagining things." More hurt. She put her arms around him but he pulled away.

"It's a lot to assume with so little to go on. Do you have this letter? Maybe if I saw it..."

"I must have dropped it during the confrontation." He sighed. "I will find a way to prove it to you."

"You don't need to do that."

"Clearly I do." he said. "You don't believe me and I can't allow him to hurt you."

"And what about you?" she asked, standing. "I almost lost you! It was by the Maker's grace that I didn't!"

"It would be worth it."

"Damn you!" she yelled. She punched the wall, pain shot up through her arm but she didn't care. "You stubborn idiot! You want to spare me from pain? Spare me the pain of having to live without you! Spare me the pain of having to speak at your funeral! I just got you back! We are finally together, finally happy and you would throw it all away to prove a point! Do you realize how fortunate you are to be alive after that? Next time you may not be so lucky."

"Next time I will not turn my back on him."

"Fenris, no." she said firmly. "This discussion is over. Stay away from Anders."

"You would forbid me?" he asked, his eyebrow raised in challenge.

The memory of the fight with Severa flashed in her mind, the last time he'd asked that question. "I had hoped you would listen to reason first."

"That is not what I asked." he said. "Answer the question: would you forbid me?"

She steeled herself, closing her eyes and turning away. If it was a choice between his love and his life, her decision was clear. "You have given me no other choice, have you?"

There was a long silence and then a shuffling sound, and when she turned back, her bed was empty. A door closed downstairs and he was gone. Her heart ached as she began to wonder if it was for good.


	79. In the Doghouse

**Fenris**

She didn't believe him. Worse, she didn't believe _in_ him. _So there are feelings more painful than being branded with lyrium. _He thought. _Leave it to me to discover them._

He wandered into the Hanged Man. How he had ended up there was a mystery, but suddenly there was a mug of ale in front of him, and Varric was sitting next to him. "Trouble in paradise?" he asked.

"I share a home with the possessed mage who also happens to be Hawke's former lover. What do you think?"

"I think that's a recipe for disaster." Varric said.

Fenris nodded and took a long gulp from his mug. "This is worse than I remember. It makes me miss Isabela's grog."

"Brave words, my friend." Varric said. "So what did Blondie do this time?"

"It's a long story," Fenris said.

"My favorite kind."

"I came here to forget, not to air my dirty laundry."

"Alright, how about some cards then?"

"That is a fine idea."

* * *

"This was a terrible idea." Fenris scowled. He was eight sovereigns in the hole and Varric was just tickled pink. He drained the rest of his ale and motioned for Norah to bring him another. He hoped she would take some of the empty mugs, they were beginning to crowd the table.

"Giving up already?"

"That won't work again, Varric. I will not be baited into another hand. I am done."

"Good. I was wondering when you'd wise up and leave this shithole. Not that I don't appreciate your gold, but it's a little like shooting fish in a barrel."

"What do you mean?"

"You've got a good thing going with Hawke. She's happy and your broodiness is almost tolerable these days. The other day I thought I even saw you smile. Don't screw this up, elf."

"I have a good reason for being here."

"Who cares?"

Fenris glared at him. "I do."

"She sailed hundreds of miles and saved you from a lifetime of bondage and misery. You can give her a pass just this once."

He considered that for a moment. The ale had done much to improve his general disposition, but whenever he thought about the predicament for any amount of time it still hurt. "No."

"Why?"

"Because I am angry with her."

"Alright, get even then. Rivaini's just upstairs. You might even have fun. Right before you get the clap, that is."

Fenris grimaced. "I'll pass."

"Have you tried talking to her about it?"

"Talking is what brought me here in the first place. I am done talking."

"Huh." Varric said. "I guess it's really over between you two. Good thing Blondie never officially moved out. I'm sure he'll be glad to..."

"Do not even think about finishing that sentence, dwarf." Fenris said. He looked down and his knuckles were white from the grip he had on his drink.

"Why? What's it to you?"

"It is not over between us." he said. "I would not let that happen."

"So go back to that palatial estate, climb into that giant, comfy bed and touch her before it's too damn late."

* * *

Hawke was standing in front of the fireplace, staring at the flames and fussing with the sash at her wrist. She turned toward him as he entered the room, her eyes wide with relief. Another wave of pain crested in his chest when he saw her.

"Fenris, you're here!" she said.

"I am." he said, standing before her, arms crossed.

She stared at the floor. "I didn't know if you'd come back."

"Don't be absurd." he said. "I live here, do I not?"

"I'm sorry. I should have believed you."

"Yes, you should have."

"It's just – I have to believe that Anders can be fixed. I know you can't understand that..."

"Do not presume to tell me what I can and cannot understand, Hawke." he growled. "I am capable of complex emotions just like any other person."

"I didn't mean..."

"I know what you meant." he sighed. "This is not the way I intended for this to go. Perhaps I should come back later."

"Don't go." she said. She knelt down and kissed his feet. It was not what he was expecting. "Please forgive me."

"What are you doing, Hawke?"

"Kissing your feet." she answered, as though it were only natural to do so.

"Why?"

"Because I love you." she said. "Because I'm sorry for hurting you. Because I don't want to lose you."

He cleared his throat. "Yes, well...I have been in Lowtown all night. They are probably filthy."

"I don't care." She resumed covering his feet with reverent kisses.

"There are other parts of my body you could be worshiping with your lips." he offered. "Parts that aren't calloused and encrusted with dirt." He chuckled at his innuendo.

She looked up at him. "Forgive me." she said again.

He rolled his eyes. How could he stay angry at her? "I do, Hawke. You can stop grovelling now." He extended his hand to help her up. She looked at it, uncertain, but placed her hand in his. He pulled Hawke to her feet.

"Please don't ever run off like that again." her voice hitched. "You had me worried sick."

His hand was still clasped with hers. He ran his thumb over her knuckles and found a bruise and a cut where she had punched the wall. He brought it to his lips and kissed it, gently. "I may, but I will always return to you."

"Promise?"

"I swear on my life."


	80. Iconoclasm For Dummies

**Anders**

He thumbed the ring in his pocket, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. The spirit inside him stirred, like a baby kicking in it's mother's womb. Justice did not like when Anders touched the ring. He did not like when Anders looked at her or thought about her. He made his displeasure well known.

It was true enough when he told Hawke that Vengeance had returned, but that wasn't all. He'd given up, hadn't even bothered trying to fight it. She was gone, his clinic was destroyed, the people he vowed to protect had been brutally murdered. There was nothing left. _Some things are worse than death._ He remembered saying to the elf a lifetime ago. Stepping into his clinic that night, retiring alone and seeing her go to bed with _him_ afterward, that was one of those things.

He had heard Vengeance whispering to him from the Fade, promising glory, purpose, and above all else an end to it all. He had accepted without reservation. It wasn't until later that he began to wonder if it was the right decision, in typical Anders fashion, but of course by then it was too late. He couldn't forgive if he wanted to, and he most certainly didn't.

_**No more distractions.**_ Justice commanded. _**It is time.**_

_Right._ He nodded.

Hawke opened the door and stepped outside. Her robe was open, and she was wearing a blue nightgown with pearls beaded into the bodice. He'd seen her in it dozens of times, but that was before. To see her wearing it now, it was nothing less than devastating. A blue gem found an enticing home nestled in her cleavage. He nearly choked when he saw it.

"Anders." she greeted him tersely. He felt a twinge of heartache to hear her say his name that way. It was not surprising that she was still angry. He'd given her enough reason to be. And here he was to fan the flames some more. He had no delusions, she would hate him for this. She would kill him. It was closure, in a sense. She would get to live her life unburdened by his lingering memory and he would pass through the Veil, free at last.

"Hawke." he said softly. "Can I speak to you for a moment?"

She glanced back at the bed, at the elf who was undoubtedly in it, and closed the door behind her. She pulled her robe tight across her body. "Make it quick. It's freezing out here." Somehow he resisted the urge to put his arms around her and draw her close to him to keep her warm.

"I found a solution to my problem." he said. "A way to separate Justice and I, but I need your help."

Her eyebrows shot up in surprise. "I'm listening." she said.

"It's a potion. The Tevinter..."

"Hawke where did – oh." Fenris said, emerging from the room. He was not wearing a shirt, and somehow that made him look all the more threatening. "it's you." He put his arms around her possessively.

"As I was saying..." he continued.

Fenris' expression remained the same through the entire conversation, but Hawke looked on the verge of tears half of the time and laughter the other half. It made things a little more complicated, but he had always been a good liar.

"So that's it, really." he said.

Fenris frowned. "A word, Hawke." He pulled her into the room by her wrist. She turned and shrugged at Anders. The door closed behind them and there was some muffled shouting. A moment or two later, Hawke came out by herself.

"We'll go get the ingredients tomorrow." she beamed.

"Thank you, love." he said, turning toward his room.

"Anders." she called. He looked back at her. She was smiling from ear to ear. "I'm so very happy for you."

He smiled weakly, and his stomach flopped.

_**There is no turning back.**_

_I know._


	81. Epilogue

**Thank you all so much for your support. I have enjoyed writing this immensely. 93,000+ words. Can you believe that? Just to give you an idea, JRR Tolkien's "The Hobbit" is 95,022 words. Not that this is on par with Tolkien by any stretch of the imagination, but finishing something this big has left me feeling pretty damn accomplished anyway! **

**For those of you who are interested, I've decided to continue Hawke and Fenris' adventures in a sequel. I'm pretty stoked about it because I will be working with a beta for the first time! I'm hoping that will result in an improvement in style and technique, and make it more enjoyable for you to read.**

**I'll be taking a short break for now, but I will also be taking feedback and ideas for the next story. So if there's anything you'd like to see, or not to see in the sequel please let me know, and I will take it under advisement. :)**

**Varric**

Varric closed the book and chanced a sidelong glance at the Seeker. She was sitting in rapt attention. It seemed she'd bought the abridged version of the story implicitly. "The end." he said. "Can I go now?"

She shook her head and her expression turned to one of acute annoyance. _Maker's breath, this woman has anger issues._

"That's it?" she asked, raising her voice. "I don't believe you! You aren't telling me everything!"

"What else is there to tell? You know the ending. Anders blew up the Chantry. The Champion defended the mages, slaughtered Orsino and Meredith, escaped by the skin of her teeth and disappeared off the face of Thedas forever, her favorite broody elf in tow. The mages revolted, the templars rebelled, the circles fell and here we are."

"What became of Anders the mage?"

Varric paused for dramatic effect. "So you don't know?"

"I know what I've heard, but I simply can't believe it."

"I get that a lot." he sighed. "What you've heard is true. She spared him. She even allowed him to fight beside her during the battle."

"Why would she do such a thing? It makes no sense."

He nodded. That was unsurprising. The story was more romantic if Hawke had only ever had eyes for the elf, so he'd left the part about Anders out entirely. He was sure Hawke wouldn't mind his version, the elf certainly wouldn't. "I've wondered that myself. Who knows? Maybe she thought he could still be saved. Maybe she knew he wanted to die, and didn't want to give him the satisfaction. Maybe she still needed a healer. Whatever the case, he's out there somewhere."

"And where is she now?"

He shrugged. "Couldn't tell you, my friend. Haven't seen any of them for a while now."

She gave him a suspicious look, but when he didn't squirm she acquiesced. "Then I thank you for your time, Varric." Cassandra said, leaving.

He breathed a sigh of relief and stepped into the open air of Kirkwall. Another close call. He knew what that meant. It was finally time to leave the Free Marches. Somewhere up in a cave on Sundermount, Hawke and crew were waiting for him. He ambled his way toward them.

He took one last look at the city, cursing as he realized he never did get that deed from Corff. It didn't matter. In the end, there were things more valuable than a tavern. Things like a good story, and he was ready for the next chapter.


End file.
